.  L 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 


THE  QUEEN 
OF   KARMANIA 


BY 

MARIE  VAN   VORST 

AUTHOR  OF  "FAIRFAX  AND  His  PRIDE,"   "TRADITION," 
"Bio  TREMAINE,"  ETC. 


BOSTON 
SMALL,    MAYNARD  &   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1922 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


THE   MURRAY    PRINTING    COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE,   MASS. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.     Stephen  Crossdale  Answers  the  Call  of 

the  SoH 1 

II.     Crossdale  Hears  the  Hammers  on  the 

Dome 7 

III.  Prince  John  Orders  Caviare  and  Cross- 

dale  Translates  a  Song 16 

IV.  Jeff  Makes  His  Protest  Against  Autoc- 

racy         28 

V.  He  Discovers  How  Dangerous  It  Is 
Sometimes  to  Make  Too  Good  a  First 
Impression '  39 

VI.     Crossdale's  Glass  Is  Small  But  It  Is  His 

Own  and  He  Drinks  from  It *     52 

VII.     To  Always  Keep  in  Mind  the  Reason 
for  One's  Journey  and  to  be  Able  to . 
Forget  the  Inn  Beds  Are  Two  of  the 
Attributes  of  the  Good  Traveler. . . .'      65 
VIII.     He  Learns  That  He  Has  Fallen  in  Love 
with  a  Mere  Woman,  with  no  His- 
tory Worth  Recalling 78 

IX.     If  He  Signs  the  Contract  It  Will  Not  Be . 

for  the  Future  of  Karmania •    88 

X.     Prince  Sarvan  Displays  the  Fervor  of 

the  Boys  of  76 .7..     102 

XI.     He  Answers  the  Call  of  the  Wild .  .'7. .     109 
XII.     He   Comes   Face   to   Face   with   the 

Intrigues  of  a  Patriot 120 

XIII.  Crossdale  Proves  His  Sporting  Blood. .     126 

XIV.  Crossdale  Sees  a  ScreenyPicture .  . 132 

"  v 


2138551 


VI 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

XV.    — And    Sees   the    Capital    from    the 

Heights 135 

XVI.     Crossdale  Is  in  His  Brown  Tower 142 

XVII.      -And  the  Queen  was  in  Her  Parlor     148 
XVIII.     In  a  Strange  Country  a  Roof-tree  and  a 
Loaf  of  Bread  Are  Not  Sufficient. 

(Karmanian  Proverb) 159 

XIX.     The  Morning  Bird  Asks  a  Question  of 
the    Day    Which    the    Night    Bird 

Answers 165 

XX.    When  a  Man  Signs  a  Contract  for  the 
Sake  of  a  Woman,  He  Imperils  the 
Inheritance.     (Karmanian  Proverb)     172 
XXI.     He  Finds  An  Empty  Nest,  but  He 

Traps  a  Fox 184 

XXII.     The  Queen  Inverts  the  Proverb : ' '  Love 

Me  Love  My  Dog  " 193 

XXIII.  Crossdale  Is  Royally  Commanded  to 

Drink  a  Cup  of  Tea 202 

XXIV.  At  the  Queen's  Lodge  — "  Sometime  in 

November  " 211 

XXV.     A  Woman  in  Love  Fears  Danger  for 
Her  Lover,  Whereas  His  Greatest 
Danger    Is    Herself.         (Karmanian 

Proverb.) 219 

XXVI.     Korvan  Receives  a  Sinister  Invitation 
to  Pass  a  Week-end  with  the  Prime 

Minister 229 

XXVII.     Only  the  Confident  and  the  Despairing 
Know  How  to  Wait.      (Karmanian 

Proverb.) 239 

XXVIII.  When  Your  Neighbor's  Wife  Has  Honey 
and  Fire  on  Her  Lips,  a  Wise  Man 
Waits  Till  Her  Husband  Goes  on  a 
Journey.  (Karmanian  Proverb.). . .  246 


CONTENTS 


vu 


Chapter 

XXIX.  Any  Woman  May  Become  a  Queen,  but 
a  Queen  May  Not  Always  Be  a 
Woman.  (Karmanian  Proverb.). .  .  254 
XXX.  A  Peacock's  Feather  Brings  Good  Luck 
to  a  Sailor,  Bad  Luck  to  a  Man 
Whose  Wife  Is  Away  from  Home, 
and  Sight  to  the  Blind.  (Karmanian 

Proverb.) 264 

XXXI.     The   Earl   of   Moray   Goes   Staun'in' 

Through  the  Town 277 

XXXII.  When  the  Boya-Duc  Comes  from  the 
Far  Country  the  Woman  Will  Dance 
with  Him  Though  It  Be  over  Her 
Husband's  Grave.  (Karmanian 
Proverb.) 287 

XXXIII.  Mr.  Rat  Comes  to  Town 296 

XXXIV.  Karmania  Has  Her  Waterways   and 

Crossdale  a  Rendezvous 301 

XXXV.     "  Heljen:  The  Queen  " 309 

XXXVI.     The  Cup  at  the  Lips 317 

XXXVII.     Zito's  Blood  Token 327 

XXXVIII.     Ammetaro 335 

XXXIX.     "  I  Will  Give  Him  That  Which  I  Have 

Kept  for  Him/' 346 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

CHAPTER  I 

STEPHEN   CROSSDALE  ANSWERS   THE  CALL  OF   THE  SOIL 

He  was  riding  slowly  home ;  going  back  to  a  lonely  house, 
to  as  much  a  home  as  a  man  can  make  without  a  woman. 
He  could  see  the  red  roof  of  his  own  bungalow  glowing 
out  above  the  pepper  trees,  and  below  him  as  he  rode  the 
land  was  a  riot  of  color,  luxuriance  and  beauty.  Bare- 
headed, his  reins  wound  round  his  wrist,  his  hands  in  the 
pockets  of  his  loose  coat,  he  rode  slowly,  the  light  of  the 
sunset  glowing  on  his  face  and  in  his  eyes.  His  mare, 
with  head  hung  down,  picked  her  way  softly  along  the 
trail.  Everything  about  the  ranchman,  from  the  light 
touch  of  his  foot  in  the  stirrup  to  the  bare  dark  head  and 
smiling  mouth,  his  agreeable  eyes  and  relaxed  body,  spoke 
contentment  with  life.  He  reflected  the  spirit  and  the  joy 
of  living.  The  foothills,  purple,  pink  and  blue,  sweeping 
up  to  the  heights,  crimsoned  and  paled,  and  as  he  rode, 
Stephen  Crossdale  left  behind  him  the  fragrant  forests  of 
live  oaks  and  the  tall  dark  pines.  The  sage  brush  seemed 
painted  by  the  brushes  of  the  sunset  and  made  a  brilliant 
corridor  for  him  to  follow  along  the  homeward  trail. 

There  would  be  nothing  novel  to  greet  him  down  there 
in  his  red-roofed  bungalow,  with  the  bougainvillaea  vine 
staining  its  walls  like  blood.  A  supper  set  for  him  on  the 
porch,  a  devoted  negro-servant,  who  existed  to  make  his 


2  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

master's  life  smooth,  every  comfort  throughout  the  long, 
low  house  that  a  bachelor  had  a  right  to  expect— all  this 
he  knew  he  would  find.  But  there  was  no  one  to  share 
his  bed  and  his  board.  His  land  was  a  paradise;  he  was 
alone  in  it;  he  was  alone  to  know  the  thrilling  delight  in 
twilights  and  nights  like  this.  Physically  tired  after  a  long 
day  in  the  open,  he  was  going  back  to  solitude.  How  long 
would  it  be  possible  for  him  to  ignore  his  need  of  The 
Woman? 

That  afternoon,  when  he  had  started  home  after  his 
"round-up",  he  had  looked  in  through  the  window  of  a 
derelict  building  on  a  deserted  ranch.  There  was  a  country 
dance  on,  and  the  temptation  to  Crossdale  to  go  in  and 
share  the  fun  had  been  too  great  to  be  resisted.  Dancing 
was  only  one  of  the  many  forms  of  exercise  he  liked.  To 
the  music  of  a  third-rate  gramophone  Stephen  danced  three 
times  with  a  pretty  little  country  girl,  with  big  dark  eyes 
and  an  appealing  mouth.  Then  he  had  launched  out  and 
unhitched  his  mare  from  the  post  where  he  had  tied  her 
and  started  on  his  way.  He  softly  whistled  the  dance-tune. 
His  mare  pricked  up  her  ears  and  he  gathered  up  his  reins. 
Woman  he  had  pretty  well  cut  out  of  his  life.  He  was 
fatuous  enough  to  fancy  one  of  these  days  it  would  be 
his  good  luck  to  find  the  perfect  woman;  he  was  waiting. 
A  keen  sportsman,  successful  in  his  profession,  with  plenty 
of  money  and  tastes  to  gratify,  he  had  until  now  passed 
his  life  agreeably  and  well.  Several  years  before  the  war 
he  had  made  his  reputation  in  the  engineering  world,  in 
laying  out  the  Texas,  Oklahoma  and  New  Mexico  Railway. 
He  tunnelled  the  Alleghanys.  And  when  the  American 
engineering  force  came  back  from  France,  Stephen  Cross- 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  3 

dale  returned  with  it  with  a  pair  of  lungs  sufficiently 
affected  by  gas  to  require  a  renovation  by  oxygen.  He  had 
put  a  lot  of  money  into  cattle-raising  in  California  and 
had  never  taken  the  time  personally  to  work  his  ranch. 
Now,  in  these  months  of  open-air  life,  and  in  the  beauty 
and  in  the  aloofness,  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  California 
and  with  his  new  occupation. 

There  was  no  reason  any  longer  why  he  should  not  go 
back  to  maps,  charts,  surveying,  railroad  contracts,  hy- 
draulics, dynamos  and  the  rest  of  it,  but  he  lingered.  He 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  break  his  dream.  During 
his  two  years  in  California  he  had  become  widely  known 
and  much  liked,  and  besides  the  interest  in  his  life,  cattle 
and  horses,  he  had  taken  over  contracts  for  the  irrigation 
of  the  upper  plains.  There  was  a  human  element  in  the 
rough,  wild  country.  He  had  been  a  leader  all  his  life  and 
he  liked  his  kind. 

Now  a  sound  from  behind  made  him  turn  abruptly,  to 
face  a  Greaser,  who  had  been  following  him  stealthily. 
Crossdale  like  a  flash  covered  him  with  his  gun  and  both 
were  on  their  feet  facing  each  other  the  next  moment.  The 
fellow,  head  taller  than  ,the  ranchman,  one  of  those  miser- 
able crosses  between  Mexican  and  white,  where  the  meaner 
qualities  of  both  races  seem  to  meet  and  breed  dirt,  was 
crazed  with  jealousy  and  drink. 

"You  cursed  engineer!  That  little  girl  at  Two  Forks 
Ranch  belongs  to  me!  See?  What  you  done  to  her?  She 
won't  have  me!" 

Before  he  had  hardly  finished,  Crossdale,  with  one  blow 
of  his  left  arm  and  clenched  fist,  knocked  the  gun  from  the 
Greaser's  hand;  it  fell,  crashing;  and  with  his  right  hand 


4  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

he  struck  him  full  on  the  mouth.    Then,  before  the  Mexican 
could  respond,  Crossdale  covered  him  with  his  gun. 
on  your  horse  in  double  quick  time,  and  go  back  to  yen 
•  1 1 » 

The  man  was  livid.  Crossdale's  blow  had  been  efficient 
The  half-breed,  cursing  him  and  hating  him  with  a  real 
lover's  hate,  covered  his  mouth  with  his  hand.  Crossdale 
could  hardly  hear  his  invectives,  rendered  almost  unin- 
telligible by  his  swelling  mouth;  but  he  cursed  Crossdale 
for  a  gentleman,  a  white-livered  business  man,  mounted, 
and  with  his  eyes  on  the  live,  nonchalant  figure  of  the 
rancher,  he  retired,  cursing,  beaten. 

When  he  was  out  of  sight,  Crossdale  lowered  his  gun.  He 
smiled.  He  envied  this  jealous  lover,  who  had  ridden  hot 
on  the  trail  because  he  had  danced  with  a  soft-eyed,  pretty 
girl  He  wanted  to  be  a  jealous,  demanding  lover,  too, 
with  the  right  to  suffer  and  the  right  to  enjoy. 

He  came  along  slowly  toward  the  porch  of  his  bungalow, 
and  heard  his  negro  manservant  singing.  Upstairs  in  his 
den  were  photographs  of  attractive  women  whose  passing 
through  his  life  at  different  times  had  been  marked  by  more 
or  less  romance  and  disillusion.  But  on  this  night,  when 
he  had  finished  dressing,  he  went  over  to  his  desk  and 
opened  an  old  portfolio,  full  of  scraps  and  bits  of  things, 
dating  back  to  his  college  days.  He  went  painstakingly 
through  a  lot  of  stuff  until  he  came  upon  a  foreign  photo- 
graph, taken  in  a  fashionable  London  studio  in  Dover 
Street,  bearing  the  name  of  a  court  photographer.  He  had 
seen  it  in  Boston  among  a  collection  of  foreign  beauties 
when  he  was  in  his  freshman  year  at  Yale.  The  grave, 
lovely  face  had  charmed  him,  and  after  studying  it  from 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  5 

the  other  side  of  the  shop  window  finally  he  went  in  and 
bought  the  photo. 

The  young  girl,  not  more  than  sixteen  years  of  age,  was 
Princess  Something  or  other;  Crossdale  did  not  know 
which  princess,  or  of  what  country,  but  he  did  not  care. 
She  was  a  mere  child,  her  hair  plaited  down  her  back,  a 
school  girl  in  a  simple  frock,  her  lovely  hands  clasped 
meekly  before  her.  The  purity  of  the  lines  of  the  face, 
the  candid,  inquiring  eyes,  the  grace — in  short,  her  un- 
likeness  to  any  woman  or  type  of  woman  Crossdale  had  yet 
seen,  fascinated  the  college  man. 

It  has  yet  to  be  proved  that  one  cannot  fall  in  love 
with  a  picture,  and  this  grave-eyed  princess  smiled  at  Cross- 
dale  from  his  chimney  piece  thereafter  throughout  his  col- 
lege course.  She  became  a  real  person  to  him;  he  brought 
to  her  the  stories  of  his  perplexities  and  his  youthful  suc- 
cesses; whatever  problems  he  had  to  face,  he  faced  them 
under  her  eyes,  smoking  his  pipe  with  his  arm  upon  the 
chimney  shelf.  She  could  never  mean  anything  to  him; 
he  would  never  know  who  she  was,  in  all  probability.  For- 
eign royalties  play  small  part  in  the  life  of  American  youth. 
But  she  had  her  day  and  her  power;  she  made  him  dream 
— all  any  woman  should  hope  to  do  who  is  unknown  and 
unnamed.  Then  Crossdale  went  into  real  life  and  real 
things;  there  were  other  photographs  and  pictures,  with 
flesh  and  blood  realities  back  of  them,  and  this  photo- 
graph was  forgotten  in  an  old  portfolio,  with  other  scraps 
and  mementoes. 

Tonight  he  wanted  to  find  her  again.  The  little  girl  at 
the  dance  had  made  him  think  of  the  unknown  princess. 
He  turned  the  picture  over.  There  was  not  even  a  pencilled 


6  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

name  on  the  back  to  reveal  her  identity.  She  would  be  a 
woman  now,  a  stunning  woman!  He  stood  the  picture 
up  on  his  dressing-table  and  went  downstairs,  whistling 
the  tune  of  the  fox-trot  to  which  he  had  danced  over  at 
the  ranch  with  the  Greaser's  sweetheart. 

On  the  porch,  waiting  for  him,  he  found  his  negro 
servant,  a  pail  of  cracked  ice  in  one  hand  and  a  napkin 
thrown  over  his  arm.  Several  years  before  Crossdale  had 
beguiled  this  snowy-toothed  African  to  throw  up  his  job 
on  a  Pullman  car  on  the  Pennsylvania  Limited  and  to  come 
to  him  as  useful  man;  but  Jeff  Robinson  never  lost  the 
stamp  and  unmistakable  atmosphere  of  the  train-service 
man.  Crossdale  had  a  feeling  sometimes  that  he  would 
fetch  a  whisk  broom  out  of  his  pocket  and  brush  him  off. 

"Mister  Crossdale,  suh,  de  supper  am  ready."  And 
Jeff  never  announced  "De  supper  am  ready,"  or  "Dinner 
am  served"  without  his  master  mentally  adding  "In  the 
dining  carl" 


CHAPTER  II 

CROSSDALE   HEARS   THE   HAMMERS   ON   THE  DOME 

His  ranch  had  never  seemed  so  intolerably  lonely  to  him 
before  tonight.  He  had  been  a  fool  to  dance  with  that  little 
soft-eyed  girl.  As  he  passed  through  his  living-room  he 
almost  fancied  that  she  ran  before  him,  disappearing  tan- 
talizingly  up  the  stairs. 

When  he  came  out  on  to  the  porch  an  hour  later,  over 
plains  and  foothills  and  rose-gardens,  over  bay  trees,  Italian 
cypresses  and  geranium  hedges,  the  moonlight  spilled  its 
honey-like  gold.  He  expected  no  delightful  surprise  to  greet 
him  on  his  return  home;  only  his  solitary  supper  spread 
on  a  small  table  in  the  open  waited  for  him. 

The  negro,  Jeff  Robinson,  was  the  king-pin  of  the  ranch 
and  lorded  it  over  the  Mexican  servants  by  virtue  of  phys- 
ical force.  When  one  of  the  Greasers  got  on  his  suscep- 
tible nerves  Jeff  beat  him  up  and  threw  him  out.  Now  the 
negro,  from  behind  his  master's  chair,  watched  him  eat 
with  benevolent  delight. 

"  'Frisco's  bin  tryin'  to  get  yo'  on  de  'phone  all  day, 
Mister  Crossdale." 

"Mighty  glad  they  didn't." 

Jefferson  Robinson's  chuckle  was  discreetly  covered.  He 
had  but  one  desire  in  life — to  get  back  to  the  town;  but 
did  not  dare  broach  the  subject  to  Crossdale,  who  was  de- 
veloping an  inordinate  adoration  for  the  open. 


8  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

"Coin'  out  to  toss  yo'  up  a  few  banana  fritters,  suh," 
and  the  African  slipped  away  on  his  flat,  willing  feet. 

Left  alone,  Crossdale  stretched  himself,  fingered  his  glass 
of  whiskey  and  water,  and  looked  into  the  flooding  serenity 
of  the  peerless  night.  He  was  fated  tonight  to  be  pursued 
by  a  haunting  picture  of  an  ideal  companion.  He  smoked, 
musing  of  women  he  had  known,  unable  to  imagine  one  of 
them  queen  of  this  realm.  The  only  way  to  reach  his 
bungalow  was  by  the  trail  from  the  foothills;  to  get  back  to 
civilization  meant  a  two  days'  ride  and  one  night's  sleep  at 
Monterey. 

His  former  associate,  Caleb  Storm,  President  of  the 
Western  Transportation  Company,  had  not  yet  been  out  to 
the  ranch,  and  Crossdale  had  resisted  elastically,  obsti- 
nately, every  inducement  until  now  to  return  to  business. 

The  entrance  to  the  bungalow  was  screened  off  by  a 
geranium  hedge  and  a  grove  of  orange  trees,  and  as  he 
mused  he  heard  voices  and  the  peculiar  call  of  the  Mexican 
cowboy.  Visitors  were  rare,  but  they  came  now  and  then. 
He  was  growing  unsociable,  hermit-like. 

Two  Mexican  guides  and  a  big  man  on  a  tired,  gray 
horse  appeared  around  the  turn.  Crossdale  sprang  forward, 
crying  eagerly:  "K!  By  Jove!"  The  natives  slipped  like 
grease  from  their  mounts  and  came  to  the  head  of  Caleb 
Storm's  pony. 

"Hallo,  Cincinnatus!"  Storm  climbed  stiffly  down  from 
his  horse.  "Steve,  send  these  fellers  round  to  your  stables 
or  your  garage  or  whatever  you've  got.  Gad,  why  don't 
you  go  out  into  the  country  while  you're  about  it?  Think 
of  living  three  days'  ride  from  any  place  God  made!" 

"K,  this  is  the  best  ever!" 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  9 

It  took  a  second  or  two  for  the  president  of  the  Western 
Transportation  Company  to  uncurl.  He  clapped  one 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  then  on  his  leg.  "Stiff?"  he 
grimaced.  "Oh,  no!"  He  motioned  to  Jeff.  "No  food 
for  me,  Jeff,  until  I  have  limbered  up.  Give  me  a  hot  bath, 
with  plenty  of  ammonia  in  it." 

The  two  friends  walked  together  to  the  living  room.  "I 
feel  as  though  I  had  been  married  to  a  saddle."  Storm  in 
passing  through,  glanced  at  the  big  living  room.  "Bang 
up,  Steve — absolutely  bully!  Haven't  hurt  yourself  denying 
yourself  anything,  boy!" 

The  rugs  of  fur,  the  big,  roomy  chairs,  the  broad,  low 
proportions  of  the  big  bungalow,  now  full  of  twilight  shadow 
and  moonlight;  the  wide  fireplace,  with  the  logs  laid  against 
a  sudden  freshness;  the  luxurious  and  inviting  hospitality 
of  the  place,  appealed  to  Storm.  He  took  it  all  in  with  his 
quick,  gray  eyes,  behind  his  highly  polished  glasses.  "It's 
all  right,"  he  said,  still  looking  about  him.  "I'll  enjoy 
one  of  those  soft  chairs  when  I  come  down  stairs." 

When  he  had  finished  a  perfect  dinner  which  Jeff  had 
installed  for  him  on  a  small  table  in  front  of  a  big, 
roomy  lounge,  Crossdale  said  to  him:  "Gad,  but  I  am  glad 
to  see  you,  K!  I  didn't  know  I  could  be  so  glad.  Now 
you  have  loosened  up  a  bit  you  will  have  to  tell  me  what 
has  brought  you  out  here.  I  see  it  isn't  trouble.  You  look 
too  peaceful!" 

Storm  waved  his  plump  hand  toward  the  big  center  table. 
"Clean  it  off,"  he  said  authoritatively.  "I  have  a  lot  of 
stuff  to  lay  out  there."  He  got  up  from  the  sofa  gingerly, 
and  before  Crossdale  knew  it,  books  and  gramophone  discs 
were  on  the  chairs  and  floor.  Under  the  big  lamp,  Storm 


10  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

was  spreading  out  from  a  huge  portfolio,  of  a  kind  and 
character  familiar  to  Crossdale,  maps,  contracts,  railroad 
and  engineering  plans. 

"What  the  devil,  K— ?" 

The  president  of  the  W.  T.  C.  looked  at  him  almost  ap- 
pealingly.  "Let  me  do  it  my  way,  old  man.  Sit  over  there 
where  I  can  see  you." 

As  Stephen  Crossdale  took  his  place  opposite,  half  de- 
fiantly, he  looked  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  some  proposition 
which  he  was  sure  Storm  was  going  to  make.  Storm  bent 
his  head  and  face  over  the  maps  with  the  foreign  lettering 
all  through — strange,  hieroglyphic-like  characters — maps  of 
mountains,  rivers,  wastes. 

"Ever  hear  of  a  little  old  stream  called  the  Danube, 
Crossdale?" 

"But  I  never  saw  it  spelled  in  hieroglyphics,  K." 

"Look  at  her,  old  boy — there  she  flows  down  to  the  Black 
Sea."  Storm's  finger  stopped.  "Now  see  this  red  flag?" 

Under  the  native  characters  was  written  in  English  and 
Stephen  Crossdale  read:  "Tamaresk." 

Storm  crowed.  "Sounds  fine.  Great  to  hear  you  say  it 
out  loud!" 

Crossdale  laughed.  "It  sounds  to  me  like  a  queer  fruit," 
he  said,  "  the  kind  you  see  in  the  windows,  buy  from  curi- 
osity; when  you  get  your  teeth  in  it —  gad!  you  heave  it 
away.  Now,  K,  what  is  the  dope  with  all  this  stuff  here?" 

His  partner  ignored  him,  bending  over  the  papers.  "Now 
you  get  off  with  me  at  Tamaresk,  see?  And  hike  over 
these  hills  inland  a  couple  of  days'  travel.  What's  written 
under  that  heathen  Chinese  writing— in  English— read  it 
out,  Steve." 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  11 

"Karmanian  Hills." 

"Some  hills,  aren't  they,  boy?" 

"Carpathians?" 

"Not  on  your  life — Karmanians,  running  through  the 
kingdom  of  Karmania,  highest  peak  eight  thousand  feet." 
Storm  laughed  out  loud. 

But  Stephen  Crossdale  was  not  coming  across  at  all. 
"What  are  you  doing  with  the  Karmanian  mountains?" 
he  said  grudgingly.  "Going  to  climb  them  next  summer, 
old  man?"  looking  at  his  friend's  avoirdupois. 

But  the  president  of  the  W.  T.  C.  shook  his  head.  "It 
is  a  pretty  solid  wall,  boy,  to  stand  between  an  ambitious 
people  and  a  seaport,  between  commerce  and  wealth  and 
waterways.  Come  along — let's  go  over  the  Karmanians 
together." 

"What  for?" 

"Because  there's  no  other  way  yet,  Stephen.  You  will 
remember  that  the  W.  T.  C.  shipped  to  Karmania  a  big 
consignment  of  railroad  building  equipment  before  the 
war?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  that." 

"That  lay-out  was  for  the  kingdom  of  Karmania.  The 
Karmanians  are  going  to  cut  through  to  the  Danube  River; 
their  tunnel  is  already  half-way  through  the  Karmanians 
on  both  sides.  The  port  will  be  Tamaresk." 

Caleb  Storm  looked  frankly  at  his  partner  and  watched 
Crossdale's  fingers  as  they  began,  with  a  certain  eagerness, 
to  touch  the  documents  on  the  table,  and  his  clever,  intelli- 
gent face  began  to  alter  from  its  quiet  content,  to  waken 
and  animate. 

"Good  Heavens,  Crossdale,  but  it  is  good  to  see  you  touch 


12  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

something  that  looks  like  work  again!"  Stephen  Cross- 
dale  dropped  the  papers. 

"Get  some  other  fellow  for  your  job,  K.    I  am  a  cowboy." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  other  man  quickly.  "You  won't 
go  back  on  the  W.  T.  C.  Come  across,  Stephen,  come 
across!" 

"How  the  deuce  did  you  ever  hear  of  all  this,  K?" 

"Representative  over  here,"  said  the  other  man.  "They 
handed  us  out  a  first-rate  proposition.  They  want  the 
W.  T.  C.  to  run  their  railroad,  complete  their  tunnel.  It's 
an  easy  little  job  for  a  man  like  you,  Steve — a  pot  of  money 
— you  use  native  labor." 

"Stop!"  said  Stephen  Crossdale,  lifting  up  his  hand. 
"Don't  go  on.  I  wouldn't  touch  it  for  a  fortune.  I  have 
got  my  job  right  here,"  he  glanced  around  his  sympathetic 
room,  "right  here." 

Now  at  this  point  Caleb  Storm  displayed  genius.  He  rose 
and,  taking  another  chair  over  by  the  big,  broad  window, 
with  its  outlook  on  the  brilliant  western  night,  flooded 
with  moonlight,  full  of  dazzling  radiance,  transforming 
blossoms,  trees  and  every  growing  thing,  turned  his  back  on 
his  friend.  Stephen  Crossdale  began  to  handle  the  docu- 
ments on  the  center  table.  There  was  a  magic  in  them 
which  he  had  forgotten.  The  attraction  and  fascination 
of  his  old  work  came  to  him  all  the  more  strongly  because 
he  had  forgotten  it  so  long.  After  a  few  moments  he  went 
over  to  Caleb  Storm  in  the  big  chair.  The  president  of  the 
Western  Transportation  Company  was  dosing;  he  opened 
his  eyes  with  a  start. 

"I  have  glanced  the  stuff  over;  seems  all  right." 

"Good  enough,  Steve." 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  13 

Crossdale  asked:     "What  is  their  language?" 

"Well,"  said  Caleb  Storm,  "what  do  you  think  I  am? 
Professor  of  Sanskrit?  I  dare  say  it  is  the  language  of  their 
country."  He  grinned.  "Don't  happen  to  speak  it,  do 
you,  Steve?" 

But  Crossdale  did  not  answer  in  the  same  vein.  He 
returned  slowly:  "U — m — I  don't  know.  I  speak  something 
or  other — one  of  the  Balkan  dialects.  We  none  of  us  ever 
knew  what  it  was.  My  father  was  consul  for  ten  years  in 
Roumania.  Curious,  isn't  it?"  he  said  smiling.  "I  was 
born  in  Bukarest,  and  we  brought  away  with  us  my  old 
native  nurse,  and  I  always  talked  her  language.  She  only 
died  a  few  years  ago.  We  adored  her.  She  was  a  beautiful 
old  woman,  and  I  spoke  with  her  in  her  own  tongue,  all 
my  life." 

Caleb  Storm  was  very  slightly  impressed.  Dialects  and 
languages  meant  absolutely  nothing  to  him,  and  no  subject 
in  the  world  ever  led  him  away  from  his  own  point  until  it 
was  gained.  He  was  looking  eagerly,  affectionately,  at 
Crossdale.  The  young  fellow  was,  in  Cabel  Storm's  estima- 
tion, the  finest  type  of  man.  Crossdale's  humor  and  human 
kindness,  his  understanding  of  life,  his  handling  of  men 
and  difficult  propositions,  had  made  him  extremely  valuable 
and  sympathetic  to  Caleb  Storm.  He  knew  that  Crossdale 
could  be  counted  upon  to  the  limit.  He  was  obliged  to 
confess  to  himself — and  he  did  so  grudgingly:  "This  life 
out  here  suits  Steve  down  to  the  ground  1  He  is  as  brown 
as  a  sunset  peach  and  as  fit  as  a  fiddle." 

Stephen  was  saying:  "So  you  want  me  to  go  over  to 
Karmania  and  tunnel  the  Karmanians?  You  want  me  to 
complete  that  darned  old  road,  do  you?" 


14  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

"I  didn't  say  so,  Stephen." 

"Oh,  you've  said  nothing  else,  K.  Your  'Hallo,  Cincin- 
natus!'  gave  you  away.  What  is  the  population?" 

"About  five  hundred  thousand." 

"What's  the  government?" 

"Monarchy.    King  and  Queen." 

"Sounds  like  a  pack  of  cards,  K.  You  rich  men  cannot 
rest;  you  can't  let  anybody  else  rest!  Can't  let  us  have  a 
leisure  class  in  the  United  States." 

Storm  laughed.    "You  call  ranching  leisure?" 

Crossdale  turned  his  eyes  slowly  out  to  the  moonlight 
and  the  land.  Then  Storm  altered,  became  magnetic.  He 
always  scored  his  points.  He  sprang  up  from  his  chair  and 
forgot  that  he  was  stiff  and  heavy.  He  caught  Crossdale 
by  the  arm  and  his  eyes  flashed.  "You  are  too  young  to 
return  to  the  soil.  You  are  a  man  of  action,  a  man  of 
cities,  a  man  of  creative  mechanical  genius!"  He  lifted 
up  his  hand.  "Listen!" 

But  Crossdale  was  facing  the  window.  He  did  not  look 
at  his  friend. 

"Listen!  Hark — what  do  you  hear?"  Crossdale  stood 
motionless. 

"Don't  you  hear  the  toot-toot  of  the  engines  and  the 
sharp  bright  click  of  the  drill?  Don't  you  hear  the  drill, 
drill  of  the  steel  needles  piercing  down?  Don't  you  hear 
the  voices  and  the  calls?"  Storm  leaned  forward  tensely 
and  gesticulated  towards  the  fields.  "See  how  dark  it  is." 

"A  cloud  across  the  moon,  Caleb,"  murmured  Crossdale. 

"It's  smoke  blowing  out  to  us  from  the  tunnel's  mouth." 

Crossdale  slowly  turned.  "Oh,  come  on  up  to  bed,  K. 
You've  spoiled  a  dream  for  me." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  15 

The  other  man  linked  his  arm  through  Stephen  Cross- 
dale's  and  they  walked  slowly  along  together  toward  the 
stairway.  "Nonsense!  Ranching  will  keep." 

As  they  went  along  across  the  room  toward  the  door  and 
the  stairway,  Storm  said:  "The  W.  T.  C.  are  prepared  to 
make  you  the  following  proposition — " 

Crossdale  shook  his  head  impatiently.  "We'll  talk  busi- 
ness tomorrow.  I'm  not  doing  it  for  money — I'm  doing 
it  for  the  sporting  proposition — for  the  adventure." 


CHAPTER  HI 

PRINCE  JOHN  ORDERS  CAVIARE 
AND  CROSSDALE  TRANSLATES  A  SONG 

Lazily  enjoying  the  fairyland  of  willow  growth  stretching 
for  hundreds  of  miles  along  the  shores  of  the  Danube,  from 
Lintz  to  the  Iron  Gates,  Crossdale  travelled  towards  the 
Black  Sea,  under  the  spell  adventure  casts.  The  heat  was 
intense,  and  comfortably  settled  on  one  of  the  wooden  seats 
close  to  the  boat  rail,  he  smoked  countless  cigarettes  and 
watched  the  changing  shores.  The  stops  the  little  steamer 
made  at  the  river  towns  gave  him  a  chance  to  study  the 
curious  type  of  peasants,  as  the  crowds  of  soldiers,  market 
people,  Hungarians,  Roumanians,  Austrians  and  Germans 
thronged  the  quays,  waiting  for  the  daily  arrival  of  the 
Lintz  mail. 

The  Danube,  pale,  unearthly,  cobweb-gray  or  delicate 
yellow,  was  full  of  personality,  as  it  widened,  deepened,  on 
its  mighty  course  from  the  Black  Forest  to  the  sea;  and 
on  either  side  the  willow  world  offered  at  one  moment  silver 
leaves  to  the  wind-swept  forests,  then  seemed  to  hang  a  veil 
of  green  across  the  shores.  After  a  little,  Crossdale  saw 
the  foothills  of  the  Karmanians,  creeping  up  into  heights, 
their  brown  tips  peaked  by  brown  castles,  and  their  ancient 
charm  made  him  for  a  moment  forget  what  a  rabid  democrat 
he  was.  He  thought  he  would  like  to  be  ruler  in  one  of 
these  strongholds,  lord  of  river  and  forest,  with  the  jolly 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  17 

days  of  autocracy  back  again.  Downstairs  in  his  cabin, 
his  credentials  to  the  Karmanian  Government  were  securely 
stowed  away.  These  he  was  to  present  to  the  envoys  of  the 
Karmanian  court  at  the  little  town  of  Tamaresk. 

He  had  singled  out  one  distinguished  looking  passenger 
as  being  a  man  of  mark.  This  gentleman  had  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table  in  the  deck  dining  room,  as  Crossdale 
sampled  a  royal  goulash — a  mysterious  pastry — whilst  de- 
ceiving himself  into  thinking  that  the  native  wine,  clear  as 
amber,  could  be  drunk  without  stint.  The  gentleman  at  the 
head  of  the  table  might  have  been  a  king,  if  looks  go  for 
anything.  Crossdale  had  found  the  caviare,  the  pure  article, 
fresh  from  the  Danube  sturgeon,  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted, 
but  it  had  not  been  good  enough  for  the  kingly  traveller, 
who  had  nearly  flung  it  at  the  head  of  the  waiter,  and  pro- 
cured for  the  whole  table  an  even  more  delicious  supply. 
Now  the  foreigner,  in  a  shaded  part  of  the  boat,  with  his 
monocle  adjusted,  was  reading  a  novel  and  listening  to  a 
native  orchestra  installed  in  the  stern,  with  their  national 
instruments.  One  man  in  embroidered  coat  and  volum- 
inous white  trousers  stood  in  the  center  of  the  circle  with 
his  mellow,  human-voiced  violin.  The  weird,  plaintive 
melody  filled  the  evening  silence,  falling  over  the  yellow 
river  and  the  rugged  shores. 

Crossdale's  traveller  shut  his  book,  dropped  it  into  the 
pocket  of  his  loose  tweed  coat.  His  clothes  were  unmis- 
takably British,  and  worn  with  a  knowing  disregard  of 
convention.  He  was  doubtless,  the  American  was  sure,  a 
howling  swell.  Crossdale  thought  him  about  forty  and 
liked  his  looks.  In  the  slender  face  there  was  a  fine  dis- 
tinction, the  mouth  well  formed  and  cold  under  a  closely 


18  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

trimmed  moustache.  He  was  angular,  loosely  made,  with  a 
vigorous  body,  and  a  skin  darker  than  European  coloring. 
His  eyes  were  blue  and  his  hair  abundant,  slightly  touched 
with  gray,  as  though  a  powder-puff  had  brushed  it,  and 
would  unmistakably  have  curled  had  it  not  been  cut  so 
closely  to  his  fine  head. 

The  stranger  left  his  seat  and  came  slowly  over  toward 
Crossdale,  half  smiling,  and  handed  him  an  open  cigarette 
case.  "Have  one  of  these?" 

"Thanks.  I  was  just  going  down  to  my  cabin  to  fill  up 
my  own  case.  I  am  smoked  out." 

He  sat  down  beside  Crossdale  on  the  narrow  seat,  whilst 
the  musicians,  violently  applauded  by  the  picturesque  pass- 
engers, repeated  one  of  their  folk  songs. 

"Fairly  good  for  gypsy  music,  what?" 

"Perfectly  fine!"  exclaimed  Crossdale  warmly.  "Of 
course  we  get  all  that  type  of  thing  in  the  United  States, 
but  this  is  the  pure  article,  hot  from  the  griddle!"  The 
other  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  frankly. 

"Immense!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have  not  heard  real  Ameri- 
can for  a  long  time." 

"That's  what  I  talk,"  said  Crossdale  coolly,  "real  Ameri- 
can, as  the  hundred  million  speak  it,  more  or  less." 

The  man  sat  down  contentedly  fixing  his  vis-a-vis  with 
his  keen  eyes.  Crossdale  had  never  been  looked  over  and  out, 
into  and  through,  so  thoroughly.  If  a  man  had  looked  at 
him  like  that  in  the  West,  he  would  probably  have  punched 
him.  He  did  not  mind. 

"I  am  a  great  lover  of  the  United  States,"  said  the  dis- 
tinguished gentleman. 

"Good  enough."    The  American  nodded.    Crossdale  was 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  19 

used  to  receiving  impressions  from  people  quickly.  He  was 
used  to  different  types  of  men.  He  liked  this  one.  "I  am 
glad  you  don't  hate  us,"  Crossdale  said.  "Been  in  the 
West?" 

"Only  in  the  West,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  I  was  called 
back  suddenly  to  the  Balkans  before  I  could  see  all  I 
wanted  of  the  Atlantic  coast.  If  I  had  not  been  born  what 
I  am  (what  the  deuce  was  he  born,  Crossdale  wondered?) 
I  would  rather  be  born  an  American." 

"Westerner?" 

"California  ranchman.  I  came  back  from  the  United 
States  drunk  with  a  dream  of  democracy." 

Crossdale  smiled.  "Fine!"  he  said,  in  his  agreeable 
voice,  with  its  slight  drawl.  "Democracy's  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world.  The  United  States  has  had  the  big  advantage 
of  starting  right,  unhampered  from  the  beginning  by  rotten 
governments.  We  have  got  a  straight  ideal,  and  up  hill 
and  down  hill  I  guess  we'll  pull  it  off  all  right  in  the  end." 

For  a  second  the  other  removed  his  eyes  from  Crossdale 's 
attractive  eager  face.  They  smoked  in  silence,  then  Cross- 
dale  accepted  a  second  cigarette.  It  was  fatter,  longer  than 
the  usual  type;  with  a  crest  on  it  and  a  name  in  gold  letters. 

In  the  pause,  which  extended  itself  for  a  few  minutes, 
Crossdale  listened  to  the  gypsy  orchestra.  The  violinist 
seemed  to  tear  from  the  wood  in  his  hand  a  rhapsody  of 
melody.  Suddenly  the  stranger  animated.  He  started. 
With  one  slender  brown  hand  he  pointed  to  the  sunset  red- 
dening the  hills.  "Do  you  know  anything  about  this 
country?" 

"Only,"  said  Crossdale,  "that  it  is  full  of  charm." 

"The  Arians,  Slavs,  Turks,  Magyars — all  have  passed  over 


20  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

it.  Franks  and  Vandals  scoured  it."  He  leaned  over  and 
put  his  hand  on  Crossdale,  pointing  with  the  other.  "Back 
of  those  hills  is  the  most  beautiful  little  kingdom  on  the 
earth,"  he  looked  at  Crossdale,  "Karmania." 

Crossdale  waited.  He  was  not  going  to  tell  this  man 
that  he  was  bound  for  this  attractive  little  joint.  "I  will 
bet  a  dollar  bill,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "that  he  expects 
me  to  present  my  credentials." 

"It  was  civilized  before  you  wild  democrats  existed.  You 
don't  know  anything  about  Karmania?" 

"No,  not  a  darned  thing." 

"When  Caesar  passed  through,  one  of  his  generals  had  a 
passionate  dream  of  power;  one  of  those  intoxicating  dreams 
that  come  to  strong,  ardent  men,  even  sometimes  to  women." 
Crossdale  listened,  charmed  by  the  man's  voice  and  by  his 
personality.  "This  Caesarian  captain  of  legions  stormed  a 
certain  hill  and  forced  himself  through,  founded  the  Re- 
public of  Karmania,"  the  man  continued.  "It  was  born  a 
republic,  remained  a  republic,  until  two  hundred  years  ago." 

"Well,"  said  Crossdale  appreciatively,  "it  has  got  a  great 
little  history,  hasn't  it?" 

"A  brilliant  one.  For  centuries  its  morale  was  so  high, 
it  never  fell  into  the  hands  of  tyrants;  it  kept  its  integrity, 
democratic,  idealistic,  pure." 

"How  big  is  it?"  asked  the  practical  American. 

"Two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants." 

"What  is  its  future?"  asked  the  citizen  of  a  progressive 
country. 

The  two  men  sitting  on  the  little  bench  together  in  the 
sunset  were  entirely  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  passengers, 
apparently  unobserved  by  any  save  the  musicians.  The 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  21 

man  with  the  human-voiced  violin  played  to  them  ravish- 
ingly,  but  they  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  wizard-like  music. 

The  stranger  dropped  his  voice.  "You  are  a  magician, 
and  charming  me  into  speaking  of  a  land  I  love." 

"Go  on,"  said  Crossdale.  "I've  heard  about  the  little 
place.  I'd  like  to  see  it." 

"Before  the  war,"  the  stranger  smoked,  musing  as  he 
spoke,  "there  was  a  revolution  in  the  country  of  Karmania, 
and  the  Prime  Minister  then  in  power  was  exiled."  Cross- 
dale  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  listened  like  a  boy  at 
class.  "Karmania  is  a  back  number  in  customs  and  prog- 
ress," said  the  stranger,  "but  at  last  it  stretches  out  its  arms 
to  the  waterways.  We  must  have  an  outlet  to  the  Danube 
and  the  sea.  Our  original  company  was  formed  to  run  the 
railroad  from  the  capital  to  Tamaresk,  but  the  engineer 
who  was  tunnelling  the  Karmanians  when  the  war  broke  out 
was  foully  murdered  because  he  was  believed  to  be  in  collu- 
sion with  the  revolutionists."  At  this  cheerful  announce- 
ment of  his  predecessor's  sudden  death,  Crossdale's  eyelids 
did  not  flicker.  He  listened  intently. 

"I  do  not  know  for  what  reason  you  have  come  to  this 
part  of  the  world,  but  I  trust  my  intuitions."  His  inference 
was  unmistakable.  He  smiled  charmingly,  took  his  card- 
case  from  his  pocket  and  handed  his  card  to  Crossdale: 

Prince  John  Sarvanarof 
Jockey  Club,  Paris 

"Not  a  king,"  Crossdale  mused,  "just  under  it.  That  is 
the  chap — Sarvanarof — he's  my  man."  He  looked  up 
frankly.  "Didn't  you  expect  to  meet  me  on  this  boat?" 


22  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

Prince  John  studied  Crossdale's  card,  but  did  not  appear 
to  know  the  name.  "I  had  no  idea  such  good  luck  was  in 
store  for  me. 

Crossdale  asked:     "Is  Sarvanarof  a  Karmanian  name?" 

"One  of  the  most  common  names  of  the  country." 

"You  speak  bitterly  about  the  state  of  affairs  in  Kar- 
mania."  Crossdale  pursued.  "What  is  the  matter  with 
it?  What  is  wrong?" 

The  other  turned  his  eyes  away.  Their  look  flitted  over 
the  musicians.  He  smiled  inscrutably,  as  though  something 
amused  him  which  he  did  not  share  with  Crossdale.  "Kar- 
mania  is  under  a  damnable  spell  just  now."  Crossdale 
waited.  "The  people  are  hypnotized  by  the  Queen,  and 
the  monarchial  idea." 

"It  is  a  monarchy,  isn't  it?"  said  Crossdale.  "There's 
a  king  and  a  queen?" 

"There  is  very  much  of  a  queen,  indeed!"  exclaimed  the 
Prince.  "She  is  so  autocratic  and  so  profoundly  embedded 
in  the  hearts  of  her  subjects  that  for  the  present,  Karmania 
is  lost.  It  is  swamped  in  autocracy." 

Crossdale  did  not  say:  "What  the  deuce  does  it  matter, 
any  way,  what  happens  to  a  little  bunch  of  barbarians  over 
on  the  other  side  of  those  great  powerful  mountains?" 

"I  suppose,"  he  said  keenly,  "the  Queen  is  one  of  the 
ardent  persons  you  were  speaking  of,  a  woman  in  love  with 
power?" 

Sarvanarof  bowed  his  head.    "You  cannot  blame  Karmen 

Mara.    She  is  young,  she  is  adored.    The  Queen  is  a  despot. 

She  comes  from  the  people— what  you  might  call  a  'come- 

He  laughed.     "I  learned  that  expression  in  the 

American  West.    Twelve  years  ago  the  King  fell  in  love 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  23 

with  her,  when  she  was  merely  a  child,  and  sent  her  with 
her  sister  to  England,  to  be  educated;  and  when  she  came 
back  he  forced  her  to  marry  him  at  sixteen  out  of  hand." 

"Rotten!"  Crossdale  exclaimed  hotly.  "Kidnapping! 
I  don't  wonder  she  tries  to  hypnotize  the  people!  I  hope 
she  gets  something  out  of  her  job." 

"She  was,"  said  his  companion,  "not  exactly  what  you 
would  call  a  commoner,  for  all  that.  Mariska  and  Karmen 
Mara  were  the  daughters  of  one  of  the  old  brigand  chiefs. 
They  really  form  a  sort  of  aristocracy.  And  she  inherits 
from  his  ancestors  a  fine  lot  of  courage  and  spirit  and  an 
inordinate  arrogance  for  a  woman."  He  was  looking  at 
Crossdale,  but  he  was  apparently  far  away.  He  was  ab- 
sorbed in  the  picture  he  was  drawing  of  the  Queen  of 
Karmania. 

As  the  darkness  fell  the  young  man  became  less  distinct, 
but  Prince  John  already  had  a  mental  photograph  of  the 
lines  of  the  American's  lean,  well  made  figure  and  his  frank, 
attractive  face.  Little  did  Crossdale  imagine  the  unusual 
impression  he  had  made  upon  this  strange  man.  The  un- 
compromising patriot  determined  to  attach  the  American 
to  his  party  if  possible,  and  to  use  him  in  any  way  he  could 
for  the  cause  of  liberty. 

Now  the  violinist,  tearing  away  harder  than  ever  into 
the  heart  and  soul  of  his  instrument,  came  close  and  sang 
to  them  alone  four  verses  of  a  native  folk  song.  Stephen 
Crossdale  listened  tensely,  leaning  forward,  with  parted  lips. 
Every  now  and  then  he  exclaimed,  with  something  of  a 
little  laugh:  "The  deuce!"  "By  Jove!"  When  the  mu- 
sician had  finished  he  sprang  up,  and  standing  before  tb^ 
Prince  said  rapidly,  in  a  low  tone: 


24  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

"I  say— listen,  will  you?    Look  here—  isn't  this  some- 
thing like  what  he's  singing?— 
"  'What  shall  be  given 
To  him  who  comes  riding 
Over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests 
To  our  hill  city? 
Much  gold  and  glory? 

"  'He  comes  for  neither. 
So  the  rider,  the  stranger, 
Goes  back  unsatisfied! 

"  'What  shall  I  give  him 
Who  comes  so  far  and  so  gladly? 
A  gift  for  a  stranger — 
A  gift  for  a  rider — 
I  will  give  him  that  which  I  have  kept  for  him — 

that  which  my  mother  gave  me. 
What  is  this  gift?    The  heart  in  my  breast. 
When  he  feels  it  he  will  count  its  beating.' 
"Isn't  that  what  it  means,  more  or  less?    You  know." 
The  face  of  Prince  John  was  no  less  keen  in  its  excite- 
ment than  Crossdale's. 

"Good  God!"  he  said,  catching  hold  of  Crossdale's  arm. 
"Why  that  song  was  Karmanian,  and  in  dialect!  You 
speak  Karmanian,  you  speak  the  dialect?" 

Stephen  Crossdale  threw  himself  down  again  on  the  bench 
and  burst  out  laughing.  "Gosh!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  didn't 
know  it,  but  I  do.  Karmanian!  If  that  isn't  the  limit! 
When  I  was  a  kid  my  father  was  consul  at  Bukarest,  and  I 
had  an  old  nurse  come  from  God  knows  where,  and  she 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  25 

taught  me  the  dialect  of  her  people.  We  took  her  over  to 
the  States.  She  lived  with  us  twenty  years.  We  never 
knew  what  her  speech  was;  she  did  not  know  herself,  but 
I  have  always  known  it.  By  George!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Honestly,  is  it  Karmanian?" 

He  repeated,  not  unmusically,  a  verse  of  the  song,  his  fine 
eyes  fixed  on  the  Prince. 

"Excellent!"  exclaimed  Sarvanarof.  "The  Queen  of 
Karmania  ought  to  hear  you — it  is  one  of  her  songs.  You 
will  hear  it  everywhere  you  go." 

Crossdale  was  so  absorbed  in  the  fact  of  his  discovery, 
the  fact  that  he  could  speak  and  understand  the  language 
of  the  country  into  which  he  was  going,  that  he  almost 
forgot  his  companion.  Little  Karmania!  He  had  heard  a 
lot  about  it  in  the  last  half  hour — and  he  could  speak  its 
language! 

Prince  John  arose.  "I'm  going  downstairs  to  interview 
the  cook,  and  order  a  special  little  supper  for  you  and  me. 
Let  the  rabble  go  in  and  feed.  You  and  I  will  eat  later 
on  deck." 

He  did  not  go  down  to  see  the  cook  at  once,  but  to  his 
cabin,  and  one  of  the  musicians  slipped  out  from  the  group 
of  players  and  followed  the  Prince.  On  the  staircase  Sar- 
vanarof murmured,  without  turning  his  head: 

"Skarervaro  batucho.  I  want  a  few  words  with  you  in 
my  room."  Once  within  the  cabin,  the  Prince  shut  the 
door  and  locked  it,  and  looking  sternly  at  the  musician 
said:  "I  knew  you  at  once,  Refan  Ugo.  Your  disguise  is 
wretched.  If  you  are  on  board  to  spy  upon  me  you  should 
have  concealed  yourself  more  successfully." 

"It  is  impossible  to  keep  anything  from  your  Excellency  1" 


26  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

Prince  John  looked  the  man  up  and  down,  as  though  he 
hated  every  inch  of  him.  "You  miserable  half-breed!" 
he  said.  "Our  day  of  reckoning  will  come.  Now  I  want 
you  to  answer  me  three  questions.  Who  is  this  American?" 

The  man  answered  glibly:  "Mr.  Stephen  Crossdale  of 
California.  He  has  come  to  Karmania  to  finish  the  tunnel,  to 
run  the  railroad  through  to  the  Danube." 

Prince  John's  face  illumined.  "Oh,  my  God!  This  is 
too  good  to  be  true!  What,  in  spite  of  the  Prime  Minister, 
in  spite  of  the  opposition,  in  spite  of  the  Queen  herself?" 

"I  swear,"  said  Refan  Ugo,  lifting  his  hand  to  make  his 
words  more  impressive,  "it  is  God's  truth." 

But  Sarvanarof  caught  the  man  by  the  shoulder,  and 
shook  him  like  a  rat.  "Liar!  Miserable  liar!"  Then  he 
dropped  the  spy  as  though  he  had  been  a  puppy  and  mur- 
mured to  himself:  "This  means  progress,  life,  Karmania's 
future — and  other  things — the  railroad,  commerce,  indus- 
try!" 

The  spy,  watching  him,  could  not  help  but  be  impressed 
by  the  Prince's  fire.  "Your  excellency,  it  is  the  work  of 
the  Queen  herself." 

Sarvanarof  smiled  skeptically.  "I  don't  believe  it.  She 
is  too  much  under  the  power  of  that  dandy,  her  present 
Prime  Minister." 

"She  is  becoming  modern.  She  is  very  much  beloved 
and  more  and  more  powerful.  She  desires  progress  for  the 
country.  It  is  because  of  the  Queen's  insistence  that  this 
American  engineer  has  been  brought  from  the  United 
States."  Ugo  touched  his  forehead  in  the  Karmanian  manner 
of  salutation.  "Heljen,"  he  murmured,  finishing  in  a  rev- 
erential tone,  "the  Queen." 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  27 

But  Prince  John  simply  inclined  his  head  shortly.  "You 
have  told  me  great  news.  I  could  almost  forgive  your 
treachery  to  me  for  this."  He  nodded  upward  toward  the 
deck.  "So  that's  your  engineer,  is  it?  Well,  he's  an  im- 
provement on  poor  Baumgarten,  I  must  say!"  He  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed,  and  narrowing  his  eyes  said 
in  a  tone  full  of  menace:  "I  warn  you  that  if  anything 
happens  to  Mr.  Crossdale — if  he  disappears — you  will 
have  to  answer  to — "  and  he  hesitated,  "the  United  States." 

The  Prince  started,  half  lifted  his  hand  as  though  to 
strike  the  man,  but  contained  himself.  He  unlocked  the 
door  and  opened  it.  "Now,"  he  said,  "get  out  whilst  I  am 
willing  that  you  should  go  without  harm.  Our  day  of  reck- 
oning will  come.  I  do  not  know  what  force  you  have  on 
board  with  you,  but  if  you  take  any  step  to  menace  my 
safe-conduct,  the  boat  on  which  we  are  travelling  will  be 
blown  to  atoms.  You  have  your  secret  service  men;  I  have 
mine."  The  spy  slipped  out. 

"Good  night,"  said  the  Prince  shortly.  "When  you  see 
Her  Majesty,  as  you  probably  will,  and  when  you  report 
to  her  our  delightful  interview,  tell  her  from  me  that  in 
the  name  of  the  new  Republic  I  thank  her  for  building  the 
Royal  State  Railroad." 


CHAPTER  IV 

JEFF   MAKES   HIS   PROTEST  AGAINST    AUTOCRACY 

Before  they  parted  Prince  John  informed  Crossdale  that 
"The  Yellow  Moon"  was  the  one  decent  restaurant  in 
Tamaresk.  His  adieux  to  the  Prince  had  been  short  and 
summary.  He  was  leaning  on  the  rail  of  the  steamer  in  the 
moonlight,  when  Sarvanarof  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Crossdale — not  good-bye.  I  shall  see 
you  soon.  Don't  taint  your  pure  democracy  in  Karmania, 
not  even  for  the  favors  of  the  Queen." 

Sarvanarof  had  slipped  from  the  boat  at  Gieurgevo,  and 
Stephen  watched  his  distinguished  figure,  in  its  long  mili- 
tary overcoat,  disappear  in  the  crowd  of  motleys. 

Crossdale  discovered  "The  Yellow  Moon"  easily.  It 
seemed  as  though  everybody  else  in  the  world  was  dis- 
covering it  with  him.  The  stodgy,  stucco  cafe,  with  a 
Chinese-looking  sign  swinging  out,  a  cluster  of  little  green 
lights  above  it  like  a  bunch  of  grapes,  was  the  one  likely- 
looking  building  in  Tamaresk.  Tonight  was  evidently  the 
night  for  the  tow.  Boat  crowds  and  citizens  pressed  into 
the  eating  house  as  though  to  a  prize-fight,  and  Crossdale 
followed  them.  Peasants  in  native  dress,  stiff  white  starched 
skirts,  barelegged,  with  yellow  and  red  shoes,  gaily-em- 
broidered jackets,  soldiers,  Turks,  Jews — and  every  man- 
jack  of  them  wearing  the  inevitable  tarbush. 

Crossdale  hated  to  go  in  out  of  the  warm  yellow  moon- 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  29 

light,  flooding  river  and  shores,  but  he  was  hungry  and, 
moreover,  he  had  a  rendezvous  in  Tamaresk  with  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  Karmanian  Government.  No  one  had 
met  him  at  the  boat  landing  and  he  had  an  idea  that  some- 
thing would  turn  up  for  him  here.  The  room  into  which 
he  was  swept  by  the  crowd  was  heavy  with  the  odors  of 
oriental  food.  Wide  to  the  blue  eastern  night,  the  small 
windows,  with  their  leaded  casings,  were  thrown  open. 
Every  table  was  full. 

The  American  looked  around  helplessly.  The  serving 
men,  more  like  ballet  dancers  than  waiters,  forced  their 
way  through  the  medley  of  people,  in  white  outstanding 
skirts,  tarbushes  and  brilliant  jackets  of  silver  and  velvet. 
Over  the  throaty  jargon  of  the  unnecessarily  excited 
crowd,  Crossdale  heard  the  native  music  crying  out  from  a 
corner,  where  another  group  of  musicians  were  at  it  in  great 
form. 

His  man  Jeff  had  gone  on  to  the  Grand  Hotel,  further  on 
up  in  the  town,  to  take  quarters  for  his  master  for  the  night, 
and  to  ask  for  letters. 

The  American  saw  a  man  break  loose  from  a  little  group 
in  the  corner  and  come  over  toward  him,  catching  one  of 
the  ballet-dancer  waiters  by  the  arm  as  he  came — a  tall, 
dark-skinned  Oriental,  rather  soldierly  in  his  bearing,  very 
smart  in  gray  linen  clothes,  soft  gray  hat,  and  pleated 
shirt  with  wide,  low  collar.  He  half  threw  the  miserable 
waiter  against  a  table,  which  the  native  cleared  like  magic, 
driving  away  the  former  occupants  as  though  they  were 
hungry  dogs. 

The  man  in  gray  linen  clothes  came  over  to  Crossdale. 
He  made  a  military  salute  and  said  respectfully:  "Welcome 


30  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

to  Karmania,  Mr.  Crossdale.  I  have  told  these  fellows  to 
clear  you  a  table." 

Crossdale  had  no  intention  in  the  world  of  handing  out 
his  credentials  to  the  first  man  who  greeted  him  by  name. 
"Sorry,"  he  said,  "you  have  made  a  mistake."  The  other 
man  was  not  in  the  least  disconcerted.  He  smiled  with  un- 
mistakable intelligence,  and  the  American  understood  in  a 
flash  that  he  really  knew  him  to  be  Stephen  Crossdale. 

He  found  himself  before  a  little  table,  at  the  other  end  of 
which  the  man  hi  gray  linen  seated  himself,  rubbing  to- 
gether with  satisfaction  his  flexible  hands.  A  heavy  chain 
bracelet  dangled  from  below  his  cuff,  and  he  wore  on  the 
little  finger  of  his  right  hand  a  huge  emerald,  set  in  the 
rough. 

"He  is  a  picture  card,  all  right!"  Crossdale  thought. 
"If  that  is  the  type  of  man  around  here — !" 

On  the  menu  were  no  doubt  a  lot  of  good  things,  but 
they  were  described  in  hieroglyphics.  The  native  took  the 
bill-of-fare.  "Do  let  me  order  you  something  to  eat — 
planked  steak,  onions  a  la  Tamaresk,  new  peas,  Russian 
salad,  white  wine  and  seltzer." 

Before  the  other  could  speak,  in  a  torrent  of  Karmanian, 
the  man  in  gray  linen  ordered  supper,  with  coffee,  native 
cigars  and  a  glass  of  reka  to  follow.  Now  the  room,  at 
first  packed  with  people,  began  to  clear.  Where  had  they 
vanished? 

"They  drift  in  and  out  like  that.  They  have  gone  to 
dance  in  the  rooms  back.  There  are  more  than  usual  to- 
night. Your  boat  was  crowded,  and  then  every  one's  hang- 
ing around  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  famous  personage  who  is 
passing  through.  We  rather  fear  a  demonstration  in  favor 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  31 

of  a  great  republican  leader,  but  we  are  prepared.  You 
noticed  the  crowd?" 

The  waiter  put  down  before  Crossdale  a  tureen  of  earth- 
enware, and  when  he  lifted  the  cover,  emancipated  a  fra- 
grant odor  of  herbs  and  vegetables,  tempting,  tantalizing, 
and  before  Crossdale  could  serve  himself,  the  dark,  deft 
hands  had  poured  the  contents  of  the  tureen  into  his  soup 
plate. 

"That,"  said  the  man  in  gray,  "is  Karmanian  goulash. 
The  best  in  the  world." 

The  waiter  who  served  him  had  great  gold  ear-rings  in 
his  ears  and  a  turquoise  ring  on  his  hand.  "There  seems  to 
have  been  a  cheap  ring  sale  here,"  Crossdale  thought.  "It's 
the  fashion!"  "Yes,"  he  said.  "I  noticed  a  crowd.  It 
looked  to  me  like  a  traveling  circus  going  home." 

"The  usual  country  crowd,"  said  the  other.  "River 
towns  are  always  congested.  It's  a  mixed  population.  The 
Danube  washes  the  shores  of  seven  countries.  We  get  all 
kinds." 

As  the  American  bent  to  his  fragrant  dish  his  companion 
said:  "The  famous  exile,  Prince  John  Sarvanarof,  was  on 
your  boat." 

Crossdale  ate  his  goulash.  "I'm  glad  you  find  it  to  your 
taste." 

"It's  all  right — perfectly  good  stuff." 

"What  does  the  United  States  think  about  Karmania?" 
The  naivete  with  which  this  question  was  put  amused  Cross- 
dale.  He  finished  his  goulash;  the  man  removed  the  tureen 
and  his  plate. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth  the  United  States  is  thinking  about 
itself  just  now.  We've  got  a  few  questions  of  our  own  to 


32  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

settle.  We've  been  doing  the  altruistic  act  for  the  last  five 
years;  now  it's  home  and  mother  for  the  U.  S.  A." 

His  companion  laughed  musically.  "I  dare  say,"  he  said, 
"that  few  people  over  there  have  ever  heard  of  Karmania." 

"You're  right,"  said  Crossdale.  "They  wouldn't  know 
whether  it  was  a  fruit  or  a  bird  if  you  put  it  up  to  them. 
I  hope  that  doesn't  offend  you?" 

Before  the  American,  on  a  piece  of  fragrant  cedar  board, 
lay  a  juicy  piece  of  steak,  a  bit  of  perfection  to  tempt  a 
hungry  man.  The  Karmanian  poured  into  his  green  glass 
a  honey-like  liquid  and  onto  that  the  crystals  of  ice-cold 
seltzer. 

"And  that  little  jazz  band — "  from  the  other  corner  came 
the  crying  and  appealing  music  which  apparently  was  play- 
ing now  to  the  man  in  gray  linen  and  Crossdale  alone,  for 
the  room  had  cleared  " — that  band  could  play  anywhere  in 
the  United  States  and  fill  the  house!  I  wonder  why  we 
haven't  got  that  little  bunch  of  troubadours!" 

He  drank  his  wine.  It  filled  him  with  the  sense  of  the  joy 
of  life.    Above  his  head  the  fans  were  agreeably  rotating. 
The  violinist,  a  boy  not  more  than  twenty  years  of  age,  his 
violin  tucked  under  his  chin,  came  stealing,  slipping,  gliding 
on  soft  red  shoes,  close  to  the  American's  elbow. 
"What  shall  I  give  him 
Who  comes  so  far  and  so  gladly? 
A  gift  for  a  stranger — 
A  gift  for  a  rider — " 

"I'm  glad,"  said  his  vis-a-vis  in  a  low  tone,  "that  you 
approve — that  you  like  what  you  have  seen  of  Karmania 
and  heard  of  it  and  tasted  of  it.  Karmania  has  a  great 
future,  a  great  past  and  a  great  Queen." 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  33 

As  the  man  in  gray  linen  said  the  word  "Queen"  he  rose 
to  his  feet  sharply,  with  a  click  of  his  heels,  and  lifted  high 
in  the  air  his  little  glass  of  white  wine,  saying  aloud  in  an 
impressive  voice:  "Heljenl"  It  was  impressive,  it  was 
picturesque,  and  Crossdale  liked  it.  Here  was  evidently  a 
good  servant  of  the  autocratic  monarch! 

"If  I  am  not  indiscreet,  what  has  brought  you  to  Kar- 
mania?  What  are  you  interested  in?" 

"Cinema  films,"  said  the  American,  "and  gypsy  bands. 
Those  people  over  there  play  wonderfully.  I  am  going 
to  get  them  to  emigrate." 

The  man  was  leaning  confidently  across  the  table  to 
Crossdale;  he  smiled  cleverly  and  laughed.  He  turned 
his  huge  emerald  round,  so  that  the  light  lay  ruddy  on  it. 
Then  in  a  very  low  tone  he  said,  straight  into  the  engineer's 
eyes:  "I  saw  you  on  the  Danube  boat — you  were  talking 
to  Prince  John,  and  since  you  are  apparently  a  friend  of 
his,  you  will  be  interested  in  tonight's  issue  of  the  'Tamaresk 
Whistle.' " 

From  his  pocket  he  took  a  copy  of  a  pink  evening  news 
sheet,  covered  with  the  hieroglyphic  printing.  "I  dare  say 
you  don't  read  Karmanian,"  he  said  indulgently,  and  began 
to  translate  glibly  for  Crossdale's  benefit: 

"Prince  John  Sarvanarof  is  back  in  the  Balkans,  has  had 
the  daring  to  return  after  four  years'  absence.  He  will 
probably  pass  through  Tamaresk  tonight.  He  will  not  be 
permitted  to  remain  twenty-four  hours,  and  his  arrest  is 
looked  for  momentarily." 

Crossdale  listened  and  when  the  man  had  finished  reading, 
met  his  eyes  without  any  change  of  expression  in  his  own. 
The  Karmanian  folded  up  the  pink  paper  and  said,  always 


34  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

in  the  same  impressive  undertone:  "I  shall  say  to  you 
what  I  should  have  said  to  Mr.  Stephen  Crossdale,  of  San 
Francisco,  if  he  had  happened  to  come  in  tonight:  If  you 
are  going  into  the  interior,  don't  touch  intrigue  or  politics." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Crossdale  coolly,  "I  quite  believe  they 
would  be  dangerous  in  your  part  of  the  world.  Now,  for 
instance,  the  chap  who  started  to  tunnel  the  Karmanians — 
he  got  it  in  the  back,  didn't  he?" 

"Baumgarten,  the  engineer?"  said  the  other  man  slowly. 
"No  one  ever  knew  quite  what  happened  to  Baumgarten, 
but  he  was  a  very  unwise  young  man.  He  meddled  in  poli- 
tics, and  it  proved  bad  for  his  heart." 

Crossdale  helped  himself  to  a  fat  cigarette — Prince  John's 
type,  with  the  arms  of  Karmania  on  the  white  paper  in  gold. 

"You  ought  to  make  your  country  more  attractive  to 
tourists!  They  are  trying  to  hand  round  a  story  in  the 
United  States  that  European  travel  is  unpleasant.  If  you 
are  going  to  add  to  the  joys  of  the  railroad  trains  assassi- 
nation and  political  intrigue,  forced  on  you  whether  you 
want  it  or  not,  take  it  from  me,  you  will  keep  a  lot  of 
people  out."  He  laughed. 

The  Karmanian  poured  into  Crossdale's  glass  some  golden- 
colored  liquor  of  a  rich,  oily  substance,  with  a  nutty  aroma. 
"Rekat  Try  it — the  national  drink.  Americans  who  are 
used  to  alcohol  won't  mind  a  little  reka." 

"Net  in  the  least."  The  American  tasted  it,  liked  it  and 
finished  it.  "I  dare  say  I  shall  want  to  smuggle  a  case  or 
two  back  to  our  dry  old  country." 

The  other  man  laughed,  watching  Crossdale's  indifference 
to  the  hot,  fiery  liquid,  which  must  have  burnt  his  throat 
like  liquid  flame. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  35 

"Have  some  more?"  he  asked,  amused. 

"Ill  wait  until  my  internal  organs  are  properly  intro- 
duced to  this  first  glass.  It's  some  little  drink,  all  right!" 
The  American  put  his  glass  down. 

As  he  spoke,  the  native  orchestra  again  fell  into  the  be- 
witching tune  of  the  Queen's  song.    Its  measured  melody 
rocked  his  senses  like  a  cradle.    He  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  wines,  the  amber  white  wine  and  this  last  biting  alcohol. 
"What  shall  be  given 
To  him  who  comes  riding 
Over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests — " 

"One  of  the  Queen's  new  folk  songs,"  said  the  man  in 
gray  linen.  "You  heard  it  on  the  boat?"  Crossdale  nodded. 

"They  are  mad  about  her  music  and  her  songs  all  over 
the  Kingdom." 

Crossdale  was  determined  not  to  ask  any  questions  of 
anybody  in  Karmania.  His  companion  who  had  drunk  little, 
was,  however,  confidential.  "The  Queen  is  interested  in 
everything  that  concerns  her  kingdom.  There  has  been  no 
sovereign  like  her  since  the  days  when  women  were  really 
great —  not  another  woman  her  equal  in  any  court  of  Europe. 
She  rules  by  wisdom,  and  the  people  worship  the  dust  under 
her  feet."  The  man  was  convincing.  The  American  looked 
at  him,  very  much  impressed  by  his  enthusiasm. 

"She  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Europe,"  said  the 
Karmanian.  "And  that  mad  seditious  man  whom  you  saw 
on  the  boat  is  a  fanatic,  dangerous  beyond  words,  and  if 
you  value  your  personal  safety,  avoid  him." 

Crossdale  had  picked  up  the  bill  the  waiter  had  put  at 
his  side  and  looked  at  it  helplessly,  at  its  undecipherable 
figures.  As  the  man  opposite  took  it  from  his  hand,  he  heard 


36  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

the  noise  of  scuffle,  confusion  of  voices  without  the  door, 
and  he  recognized  Jeff  Robinson's  honest  tones.  The  next 
moment  the  negro  was  pushed  into  the  room  by  two  huge 
Karmanians  in  uniform.  It  would  have  taken  an  expert  to 
have  discovered  that  they  were  policemen. 

Breathless,  badly  shaken,  hatless,  evidently  culled  by 
main  force  from  some  scuffle,  Jeff  panted:  "Dere's  de  bossl 
Dere's  de  boss!" 

Crossdale  sprang  to  his  feet  and  realized  in  an  instant 
how  serious  this  was,  and  how  alone  he  was,  how  important 
everything  he  did  just  then  was  for  them  both;  and  he  was 
angry  and  furious  at  this  assault  on  Robinson.  "What 
the  devil,  Jeff—" 

The  man  in  gray  linen  was  occupying  himself  with  the 
native  policemen  who  fell  off  Jeff  like  dead  flies. 

"Wen'  up  to  de  Gran'  Hotel,  Boss,  and  lef  yo'  grips. 
I  asted  dem  fo'  yo'  letters  an'  de  clerk  give  me  a  laugh  an' 
said  yo'  mail  had  done  been  give  out  already.  I  called  him 
a  liar  and  a  t'ief,  boss,  an'  I  soaked  him  on  de  jaw,  an'  nex' 
I  knowed  dese  hyar  policemen  j^abbed  holt  o'  me.  Nemmine 
me,  boss,  but  somebuddy's  done  stole  yo'  mail." 

The  room  swam.  Crossdjfle  wanted  to  get  his  fist  in 
somebody's  face.  He  had  a  sickening  feeling  that  this  big, 
yellow,  brown-handed  man  of  the  emerald  ring  and  the 
bracelet,  the  sailor  collar  and  felt  hat  was  at  the  bottom  of 
it.  He  turned  to  him,  white  with  anger. 

"I  want  to  telephone  to  Bukarest  to  the  American  rep- 
resentatives." 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  said  the  other  man  quietly,  "how  sorry 
I  am  that  this  should  have  happened." 

Jeff  Robinson  gave  him  a  withering  look  and  turned  and 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  37 

went  over  to  a  little  mirror  on  the  wall  which  his  ready  eye 
had  caught  sight  of,  and  scrutinized  his  battered  cheek,  mur- 
muring: "I  don'  min'  any  li'l  fight  in  a  country  where  I  can 
speak  de  langwidge!  I  met  de  German  ban'  in  'Frisco  when 
it  tried  to  play  de  national  airs!" 

The  man  in  gray  linen  took  a  package  from  the  table  and 
handed  Crossdale  a  thick  yellow  envelope,  addressed  to:  "Mr. 
Stephen  Crossdale;  to  be  called  for,"  the  seals  of  the  Ameri- 
can Consulate  unbroken.  "This  envelope  was  left  yesterday 
by  a  Consular  messenger  for  you  at  the  Grand  Hotel.  You 
will  find  all  your  letters  and  wires  inside." 

The  Karmanian  turned  his  back  on  the  engineer  and  bent 
to  light  a  fresh  cigarette,  while  Crossdale  touched  and  looked 
at  his  voluminous  correspondence;  wires,  letters,  in  familiar 
envelopes,  with  the  Western  Transportation  Company's 
printing  in  the  corner. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  shortly.  "Are  you  the  King  of 
Karmania,  or  just — "  he  stopped  " — the  Chief  of  Police?" 

The  Karmanian  handed  him  a  thick  white  envelope, 
sealed  with  a  princely  seal  and  addressed  in  a  fine,  distin- 
guished handwriting:  "Stephen  Crossdale,  Esq.;  to  be  given 
by  hand  by  Captain  Refan  Ugo,"  and  the  card  in  Cross- 
dale's  palm  read:  "Captain  of  the  Karmanian  Royal  Fusil- 
iers, First  Secretary  to  the  Cabinet  of  the  Prime  Minister." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  that  before?"  he  asked  quietly,  fixing 
his  honest,  fine  eyes  on  the  Slav. 

The  man  bowed  very  respectfully  and  very  politely.  "In- 
structions, Excellency." 

Crossdale  looked  over  at  Jeff,  who  had  got  some  order  out 
of  his  dishevelled  appearance,  and  he  said  sternly  to  Refan 
Ugo:  "I  don't  know  anything  about  your  instructions,  from 


38  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

whom  they  were,  yet,  though  I  expect  I  shall  find  out  when  I 
have  read  this  letter.  But  if  they  included  your  beating  up 
my  man  servant,  I  don't  respect  them  and  I  don't  like  them, 
and  it  is  up  to  you  to  fix  things  up  with  the  clerk  of  the 
Grand  Hotel.  I'm  going  to  stop  there  tonight  and  I  expect 
to  be  treated  properly,  and  that  my  man  shall  be  treated 
properly  too.  It's  up  to  you." 

He  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  went  over  and  took 
his  hat  and  stick.  "Come  along,  Jeff.  I  hope  we  can  get 
to  the  Grand  Hotel  without  any  more  adventures." 

Refan  Ugo  followed  them,  and  no  sooner  were  they  with- 
out the  door  of  the  cafe,  which  closed  upon  them,  than  there 
in  the  moonlight,  straight  as  lances,  the  moon  shining  on 
their  casques,  Crossdale  saw  drawn  up  a  little  posse  of  sol- 
diers. Refan  Ugo  bore  not  the  least  grudge  for  Crossdale's 
natural  anger.  He  put  his  hand  through  the  American's 
arm.  "Come,  Mr.  Crossdale,"  he  said  agreeably,  "we'll  all 
go  on  together.  This  little  company  of  men  will  go  along 
with  us." 

For  just  a  second  the  engineer  felt  a  slight  sickening  of 
his  heart. 

"Am  I  under  arrest?"  he  asked. 

"Heavens,  no!"  exclaimed  the  other  man.  "How  dull  I 
must  be!  You  are  under  royal  escort,  Mr.  Crossdale,  and 
you're  to  have  the  best  that  the  Kingdom  can  give  you." 


CHAPTER  V 

HE  DISCOVERS  HOW  DANGEROUS  IT  IS  SOMETIMES 
TO  MAKE  TOO  GOOD  A  FIRST  IMPRESSION 

As  they  came  up  to  the  wretched  little  hostelry  styled 
"Grand  Hotel"  Crossdale  saw  two  officers  in  full  tenue, 
waiting,  and  as  their  cortege  came  along,  Refan  Ugo  was 
seized  upon  by  these  men  and  born  off  into  a  distant  part  of 
the  hotel  lobby.  The  American,  thoroughly  disgusted  so  far 
with  everything,  cast  a  disapproving  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Ugo,  went  over  to  the  lift  and  demanded  of  the 
sleepy  servant  to  be  shown  upstairs  to  the  rooms  his  man 
had  engaged. 

He  was  surprised  and  cheered  to  find  himself  shown  to  a 
comfortable,  well  lit  room,  with  a  cold  supper  laid  out  on  the 
table.  The  hotel  servant  was  followed  by  a  porter  with 
his  valises.  But  Jeff,  who  was  deeply  plunged  in  gloom, 
cast  a  baleful  look  round  the  room. 

"Boss,"  he  said  impressively,  holding  up  his  hand  to  the 
side  of  his  mouth  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  hotel  ser- 
vants, "Dis  ain'  no  cibilisation!"  (And  this  became  Jeff's 
refrain  in  Karmania.)  "Boss,  I  kin  take  care  ob  anyt'ing 
in  a  cibilised  country,  but  dis  am  fierce." 

"I  dare  say  the  clerk  at  the  desk  had  something  against 
your  brand  of  civilisation,  Jeff!  Now  unpack  my  valise, 
then  get  along  to  bed." 

He  was  feeling  somewhat  better  when  Ugo  came  in  in  a 


40  THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA 

few  seconds,  and  before  he  could  speak,  the  American  faced 
him,  throwing  up  his  fine  head  defiantly:  "I'm  waiting  for 
you'  Captain  Ugo!  I  am  not  going  to  take  another  step  in 
this  business  before  you  have  answered  me  a  question  or 
two.  I  don't  like  your  barbaric  codes  or  your  bandit  cus- 
toms. Now,  I  want  to  know,  am  I  under  arrest?" 

Refan  Ugo  laughed  comfortingly,  and  threw  his  long 
length  down  on  the  hard  little  hotel  sofa,  stretching  out  his 
legs  with  nonchalance.  "In  no  sense!  Under  arrest?  What 
an  idea,  Excellency!" 

"And  let  up  on  that  Excellency  stuff — I  hate  it!"  But 
Refan  Ugo  was  as  smooth  as  oil,  unruffled  and  serene,  and 
there  was  something  about  his  attitude  that  put  the  other's 
mind  more  at  rest. 

"Have  a  bit  of  cold  bird?"  He  nodded  at  Jeff  Robinson, 
protectingly.  "We  must  make  everything  up  to  you,  my 
man,  in  Karmania.  I  am  sorry  you  had  such  a  hot  recep- 
tion." 

But  Crossdale  knew  his  man  too  well  not  to  interrupt 
these  apologies  on  the  part  of  the  Karmanian.  "Come,"  he 
said  sharply,  to  Jeff,  "get  along  out,  Jeff.  I  will  have  you 
called  at  the  proper  time  for  me  in  the  morning." 

As  Jeff  went  out  of  the  door,  Refan  Ugo  pulled  a  little 
book-map  out  of  his  pocket,  and  as  Storm  had  done  in  Cali- 
fornia, flung  a  map  of  Karmania  down  on  the  table.  He 
was  business-like  and  talked  at  lightning  speed.  Something 
had  happened  downstairs  evidently  to  lighten  him  up,  for 
his  cheeks  were  bright.  Crossdale  watched  him. 

"You  will  have  to  leave  here  at  six  tomorrow  morning, 
Excellency,  en  route  for  Cye.  All  is  arranged  for  your 
journey.  You  will  be  charmed  with  the  ride  across  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  41 

steppes  from  here.  Look — "  with  his  long  brown  finger  he 
indicated  Tamaresk  on  the  map,  and  the  inward  road, 
straight  as  the  crow  flies,  the  cross  roads  branching  north 
and  south,  "at  these  cross  roads  you  will  meet  my  caravan, 
which  will  conduct  you  safely  to  Cye.  There  are  no  roads; 
there  are  only  tracks,  rough,  primitive,  after  you  leave  the 
carriage.  But  it  is  a  wonderful  journey  and  very  few 
strangers  have  ever  taken  it."  Refan  Ugo  was  expansive 
now  and  eager. 

"How  long  a  trail  is  it,  anyway?"  asked  the  Californian. 

"To  Cye  two  days'  riding  and  one  night  lust  a,  as  we 
call  the  road  rests.  You  will  sleep  in  a  tent;  you  will 
have  a  guard,  Excellency.  Everything  is  prepared  and 
waiting.  Indeed,  you  are  under  royal  escort." 

Stephen  Crossdale  smiled.     "Escort — that's  the  word,  is 
it?    Stands  for  arrest,  doesn't  it?    What  a  little  despot  your 
queen  is!"    He  hummed  mockingly: 
"  'What  shall  be  given  to 
Him  who  comes  riding .  . . . ' 

A  prison  cell  and  a  stab  in  the  back,  eh?  Tell  it  to  the 
Bolshevists,  Ugo — they  have  got  the  handicap  on  you." 

His  companion  put  out  his  brown  hand  across  the  table 
and  laid  it  on  Crossdale's  sleeve.  "Excellency,  don't  be 
so  suspicious.  Before  Her  Majesty  signed  the  order  which 
permitted  you  to  come  from  California  to  Karmania,  we 
knew  all  about  you." 

"Fine!"  said  Crossdale.  "You  have  got  the  advantage 
over  me.  But  I'm  going  to  find  out!" 

The  other  man,  smiling  at  the  American's  suspicion, 
bore  this  agreeably.  He  rose.  "You  are  tired,  Ex- 
cellency, and  the  night  is  short." 


42  THE  QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Crossdale  did  not  stir.      He  shook  his  head. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  The  night's  not  too  short  to  talk  a 
little  yet,  Ugo.  I've  got  several  questions  to  put  before 
I  caravan  further  to  any  circus.  Sit  down,  will  you?"  The 
spy  accepted  and  resumed  his  place  in  the  corner  of  the 
sofa. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  go  in  with  you 
into  the  interior  tomorrow  myself,  Excellency.  The  of- 
ficers you  noticed  downstairs  at  the  door  have  brought 
me  orders;  I  am  to  remain  in  Tamaresk  tomorrow  in  order  to 
prepare  the  journey  back  to  the  capital  for  the  Queen." 

Crossdale  lifted  his  brows.  "The  Queen?  Is  she  in 
Tamaresk?" 

"She  arrives  tonight  from  Paris,  and  as  it  happens,  your 
caravan  has  exhausted  for  the  present  all  my  available 
traveling  supplies." 

"Don't  you  use  motors  in  this  part  of  the  country?" 

"No  one  is  allowed  to  own  a  motor  at  present,"  returned 
the  Karmanian.  "Riot  and  sedition  have  made  it  too 
dangerous.  The  Queen  herself  owns  the  only  motor  that 
ever  leaves  Tamaresk  for  Cye,  and  at  the  best  a  motor  can 
only  go  a  certain  distance.  After  that  there  is  only  one 
method  of  crossing  the  steppes."  Ugo  reached  out  his  hand 
and  drew  a  bottle  toward  him  and  poured  out  glasses  for 
his  companion  and  himself.  The  American  held  it  up  to 
the  light  and  looked  into  it. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  don't  know  whether  I  am  a 
darned  fool  or  not,  but  I'm  going  to  drink  it.  I  dare  say 
it's  another  brand  of  hell  fire,  but  here  goes."  And  over  the 
top  of  the  glass  he  said  to  Ugo:  "To  our  better  acquaint- 
ance, Captain  Ugo." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  43 

When  Refan  Ugo  left  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
the  American  knew  a  great  deal  more  about  Karmania 
than  when  he  hit  the  Balkans.  The  Slav  had  given  him 
freely  and  frankly  dope  about  the  railroad,  its  partial  con- 
struction, the  political  state  of  the  kingdom,  and  a  synopsis 
of  the  treachery  and  treason  of  Prince  John  Sarvanarof,  for- 
mer Prime  Minister,  brother  to  the  King.  This  Prince, 
whilst  exercising  his  functions  of  Premier,  had  brought  the 
state  close  to  anarchy  and  menaced  the  throne.  But  it 
was  with  a  picture  of  the  Queen  herself  that  the  young  man 
fell  asleep.  He  could  almost  see  this  woman  of  action, 
vigor  and  power,  strangely  and  magnetically  beautiful, 
who  seemed  deepset  in  the  hearts  of  her  people  like  a  rich 
jewel. 

The  following  morning  he  found  in  front  of  the  door 
of  the  Grand  Hotel  a  victoria,  drawn  by  six  horses  and 
driven  by  a  colossal  Caucasian  eunuch,  dressed  as  though 
he  had  drifted  out  of  some  fancy  ball.  The  valises  were 
strapped  on  the  back  of  the  carriage.  There  was  no  one 
in  sight  to  bid  him  God  speed  or  farewell.  Refan  Ugo 
was  not  in  sight,  and  before  he  could  wonder  whether  he 
were  properly  started  on  his  unknown  way  or  not,  the  driver 
cracked  his  yards  of  thin  whip  and  they  were  away. 

Like  this  they  raced  through  Tamaresk  in  the  dawn,  past 
Greek  churches,  their  brilliant  domes  and  crosses  flaming 
in  the  sunrise;  past  blatant  houses  of  pink  and  lavender  and 
yellow  stucco;  through  a  town  asleep. 

Crossdale  had  always  thought  his  man  servant  a  big 
chap;  he  looked  like  a  pigmy  beside  the  Caucasian,  who 
raced  them  out  of  the  town,  through  the  suburbs,  along  the 


44  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Danube  for  miles,  and  then  straight  towards  the  interior  of 
the  mysterious  kingdom.  As  he  looked  back  and  saw 
Tamaresk  blazing  in  the  hot  September  morning,  he  felt 
that  he  was  leaving  the  uttermost  fringe  of  civilization  be- 
hind him.  They  rushed  through  fertile  farm  lands,  and 
before  he  had  time  to  tire  of  the  cradle-like  motion  of  the 
carriage,  tossed  like  a  cockleshell  along  the  road,  the  big 
man  on  the  box  drew  his  horses  up  before  a  wayside  tavern 
and  loudly  demanded :"Rekaf  Rekat"  A  glass  of  it  was 
handed  up  to  him;  the  horses  were  watered  and  they  were 
off  again,  stopping  once  or  twice  to  repeat  these  ceremonies. 

They  drove  like  this  until  noon.  Then  in  the  distance,  a 
little  spot  on  the  broad  expanse  of  the  unbroken  steppes, 
lay  a  shadow  on  the  land,  and  the  driver  pointed  with  his 
whip.  "The  escort,  Excellency."  They  had  made  good  time; 
they  were  three  hours  ahead  of  their  schedule,  and  as  Cross- 
dale  looked  at  his  map,  he  could  not  trace  the  direction  he 
had  come  from  or  his  route.  As  they  came  up  to  the  little 
shadow  on  the  plains  and  its  form  declared  itself,  he  saw 
somewhere  about  fifty  soldiers,  standing  at  their  horses' 
heads  some  of  them,  the  others  mounted,  waiting.  The 
caravan  to  conduct  him  to  Cye  was  a  medley  of  type  and 
color,  and  every  man-jack  of  them  was  armed  to  the  teeth. 
In  cinder-gray  uniform,  soft  felt  hats,  with  bright  feathers 
stuck  through  the  black  hat-bands,  they  were  far  and  away 
the  most  business-like  looking  group  of  men  that  he  had 
seen  in  this  romantic  country. 

The  driver  drew  his  six  horses  back  like  dogs.  Two  men 
were  at  the  hood  of  the  victoria,  unstrapping  the  luggage. 
Jeff  had  climbed  down  wearily,  and  Crossdale  got  out, 
looking  for  some  one  to  come  up  and  introduce  himself  as 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  45 

Lieutenant  Korvan,  who,  Refan  Ugo  had  informed  him, 
was  to  command  the  caravan.  He  looked  in  vain.  He  be- 
gan in  the  dialect  in  which  he  had  spoken  to  Sarvanarof  and 
got  no  further  than:  "Skarervaro. ..."  looking  from  face  to 
face.  Before  he  could  frame  another  syllable,  his  arms  were 
seized  from  the  back;  he  was  trussed  in  a  moment  from 
neck  to  ankle,  tight  as  a  pullet.  In  another  moment  his  eyes 
were  deftly  and  tightly  bandaged  from  behind. 

He  heard  an  oath  from  Jeff  and  surmised  that  he  had 
met  the  same  reception.  The  voice  at  his  side  said,  in 
fairly  good  English,  apparently  learned  in  the  States: 
"There  is  a  six-hour  ride  before  us.  We  know  his  Ex- 
cellency is  a  good  rider.  Will  his  Excellency  ride  free  and 
blindfolded,  or  will  he  be  carried  between  two  soldiers,  as 
his  Excellency's  servant  is  to  be  transported?" 

The  American  was  so  hot  with  fury,  and  so  helpless,  that 
he  could  hardly  speak.  "Curse  you!  Ride  to  where?" 

"That  cannot  be  told  his  Excellency." 

"I  will  ride  free,  if  it  is  to  hell!"  and  he  called  out: 
"Hallo,  Jeff!" 

And  his  relief  was  enormous  when  the  answer  came  back 
from  the  negro:  "All  right,  boss!  Never  min'  me!  What  did 
Ah  tell  yo'  'bout  cibilisation?" 

His  master's  sense  of  humor,  strong  even  in  this  mo- 
ment, made  him  laugh  grimly.  "By  God!"  he  exclaimed, 
turning  his  blindfolded  face  from  side  to  side,  "if  any  harm 
comes  to  that  black  servant  of  mine — "  And  he  stopped. 
Of  what  avail  were  his  threats? 

He  found  a  horse's  back  between  his  legs  and  the  feel  of 
a  good  English  saddle.  His  stirrups  were  adjusted  and  a 
bridle  was  put  between  his  fingers.  And  like  this,  un- 


46  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

conscious  of  where  he  went — east,  west,  north  or  south — the 
American  rode  till  sundown.  After  a  short  dash  across  the 
level,  during  which  time  he  realized  what  sight  means,  his 
horse  began  to  climb  and  climb  and  climb,  and  the  air  to 
grow  heavy  and  sweet  with  spice  and  balm.  He  never  spoke 
and  no  one  spoke  to  him.  They  all  rode  silently.  There 
were  the  blows  of  big  cravache,  the  crying  to  the  horses  in 
the  low  Oriental  fashion,  the  noise  of  the  rolling  gravel  and 
the  little  intense  hoofs  gripping,  climbing,  finding  their  foot- 
ing. 

When  he  had  done  six  hours  in  the  saddle  they  came  clat- 
tering upon  a  paved  enclosure,  stones  of  some  courtyard  or 
street — how  could  he  know?  Then  the  group  of  riders 
broke  into  sound.  There  were  cries  and  calls,  shouts  of 
greeting  and  other  shouts  further  off,  and  a  cheer  of:  "Sava, 
sava  Jehanost"  weird,  beautiful,  barbaric,  something  be- 
tween a  prayer  and  a  wail. 

He  was  off  his  horse,  and  directed  and  led  by  two  sol- 
diers, still  blindfolded,  conducted  into  some  building  or 
other;  he  felt  the  stones  under  his  feet,  and  then  the  hard 
wood  of  the  flooring  of  the  house.  He  went  up  long,  long 
flights  of  stairs,  without  protest,  to  either  death  or  mo- 
mentary liberty.  What  did  he  know?  Finally  he  heard 
a  door  close;  his  bandage  was  whipped  from  his  eyes  and 
he  blinked  into  a  small  tower  room,  candle-lit  and  hung 
with  tapestries  and  flags.  Before  him,  lying  on  a  couch, 
covered  by  rugs,  with  head  bandaged  and  his  right  arm  in 
a  sling,  was  Prince  John  Sarvanarof.  Half  sitting  up,  he 
waved  his  left  hand  gallantly,  smiling  with  an  amusement 
which  his  visitor  thought  sardonic. 

"Good  evening.    I  told  you  we  should  meet  again!" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  47 

Between  his  two  guards,  rigid  as  the  dead,  Stephen  Cross- 
dale  glared  at  his  captor,  white  to  the  lips.  "I  am  heartily 
sorry  to  have  dragged  you  up  here  like  this,  but  you  would 
not  have  come  otherwise,  you  know,  and  I  was  desperate  to 
see  you.  All  is  fair  under  certain  circumstances,  and  it 
is  a  poor  workman  who  does  not  use  the  tool  in  his  hands, 
especially  when  he  knows  its  temper  and  its  metal!  You're 
a  sport,  and  they  tell  me  that  that  servant  of  yours  is  a  sport 
also." 

If  Sarvanarof  was  an  impressive  figure  in  the  candle- 
light, supine  and  bandaged,  Crossdale  was  more  impressive, 
pale  and  furious,  with  his  blue  eyes  so  full  of  fire  as  to  be  al- 
most red.  He  loved  his  life  and  he  determined  to  make  a 
desperate  fight  for  it.  Prince  John  nodded  to  the  guards. 

"Set  Mr.  Crossdale  free." 

The  young  man  said  between  his  teeth,  thickly:  "If  you 
do,  I  will  be  at  your  throat,  Sarvanarof." 

The  Prince  laughed.  "I  believe  you  would,"  he  said,  "and 
I  will  wait  until  you  have  decided  for  yourself  what  you 
want  to  do.  But  we  could  talk  more  agreeably  if  you  were 
a  bit  more  comfortable." 

"I  am  all  right,"  said  the  American,  "as  I  am — and  safer, 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  Now,  it's  up  to  you  to  explain 
this,  Prince  John." 

"You  are  no  fool.  You  love  your  life;  you  don't  want  to 
die  here  in  a  mysterious  way  in  this  hidden  hole  in  the  Bal- 
kans?" 

"If  everything  you  say  is  as  true  as  that,  you  will  be  talk- 
ing Gospel." 

"It  is  now  seven  o'clock.  You  came  here  from  the  point 
where  my  people  found  you  in  about  six  hours.  It  will  take 


48  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

you  little  more  than  half  that  time  to  go  back— it  is  down 
grade— and  you  will  have  a  sure-footed  horse.  I  have  a 
rendezvous  at  midnight  in  the  same  place  where  you  left 
your  traveling  carriage."  Sarvanarof  touched  his  head  and 
his  arm.  "I  have  been  hurt— no  matter  how.  I  cannot 
meet  my  appointment." 

Crossdale  waited,  listening,  watching,  prepared  for  any- 
thing, and  said  sullenly:  "What's  the  dope?  What  have  I 
got  to  do  with  your  infernal  rendezvous  and  meetings?" 

"I  want  you  to  go  in  my  place." 

"What  the  deuce  do  you  want  me  to  do  that  for?" 

"My  soldiers  who  came  up  with  you  are  rebels.  They 
have  rallied  round  my  flag  and  they  love  me.  They  are  all 
recruits  from  the  Karmanian  Army.  They  are  desperate; 
they  will  follow  their  leader  anywhere." 

"So  I  see — they  are  following  you  to  hell,  all  right!" 

The  other  went  on.  "They  are  ignorant  barbarians,  the 
lowest  class  of  men;  each  one  more  reckless  than  the  other. 
They  are  not  pleasant  to  deal  with;  they  have  to  be  mas- 
tered, tyrannized.  They  are  a  type  of  which  revolutionaries 
are  made  and  republics  have  been  carved  and  moulded  by 
hands  such  as  theirs." 

"Go  on,"  said  Crossdale  nodding,  "call  them  any  old 
names  you  like — I  shan't  object." 

"But,"  said  the  Prince  passionately,  "I  have  not  a  single 
person  near  me  whom  I  can  send  on  this  delicate  mission." 

The  American  waited.  The  Prince  made  a  slight  gesture 
of  command  and  both  guards  stepped  out,  leaving  him  alone 
with  Crossdale.  It  was  a  curious  picture,  the  man  wounded, 
partially  helpless,  and  the  other  bound. 

"Queen  Karmen  Mara  arrived  in  Tamaresk  last  night," 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  49 

said  the  Prince.  "She  is  now  on  her  way  by  motor  to  Cye, 
with  her  sister,  the  Princess  Mariska.  They  will  pass  your 
point  tonight  at  midnight.  You  will  be  there  with  my  sol- 
diers; you  will  meet  the  Queen's  motor;  you  will  bring  the 
Queen  here  to  me  at  Jehanospelz." 

The  young  American  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
aloud.  "You  are  too  good  to  be  true!  Not  on  your  tintype, 
Prince  John!  You  have  got  another  guess  coming  to  you!" 

The  Prince,  perfectly  quiet  and  unmoved,  continued: 
"If  you  refuse  you  will  watch  from  this  window  the  de- 
parture of  these  men — rough,  unprincipled,  half-drunken 
brigands — for  they  will  go  down  with  no  leader  but  one  of 
their  own  kind  to  meet  the  Queen.  She  will  not  fancy  such 
an  escort.  It  will  not  be  pleasant  company  for  women  to 
travel  in  between  midnight  and  dawn." 

Prince  John  stopped,  watching  his  man.  "They're  half 
drunk,  all  of  them,  with  reka,  and  the  sight  of  beauty,  two 
unprotected  women — " 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  Crossdale,  his  breast  heaving. 
"You  human  devil!" 

"No,"  said  the  Prince  quietly,  "I  am  no  devil  at  all.  The 
Queen  of  Karmania  is  dearer  to  me  than  she  can  ever  be  to 
any  living  man.  I  am  a  patriot — my  country  and  the  re- 
public! I  have  no  other  credo." 

The  American  spoke  with  difficulty;  his  voice  threatened 
to  go  back  on  him,;  but  he  said:  "And  if  I  accomplish  this 
picture-book  deal,  and  bring  her  here,  what  will  happen  to 
her?" 

"She  shall  be  kept  here,"  said  Prince  John,  "as  an  hon- 
ored guest,  held  here  until  the  republic  is  firmly  estab- 
lished." 


SO  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"Oh,"  said  the  young  man  furiously,  "y°u  talk  like  a 
book!  And  what  will  happen  to  me,  by  the  way,  when  I 
have  brought  the  Queen  of  Karmania  here  to  you?" 

"Well,"  said  the  Prince,  "you  will  remain,  too,  at  Jehanos- 
pelz.  You  will  see  the  glories  of  the  new  republic.  I  will 
give  you  an  official  position  and  you  will  complete  the  rail- 
road; or  if  you  prefer,  I  will  give  you  a  safe-conduct  out  of 
the  country  and  you  can  return  to  the  United  States."  Here 
one  of  the  castle  bells  rang  out  eight,  long,  vibrant  pealing 
tones. 

"Come,"  said  Prince  John,  "come,  Crossdale,  you  will 
have  to  go  at  once  if  you  are  going  to  be  in  time.  Other- 
wise she  will  be  alone  on  those  steppes,  and  they  are  not 
cheerful  after  midnight." 

"I  say,"  said  Crossdale  practically,  "you  don't  expect  me 
to  believe  that  the  Queen  of  Karmania  is  motoring  alone 
from  Tamaresk  into  that  desert  I  have  just  left,  without  a 
proper  escort?" 

"She  is  doing  just  this,"  said  Prince  John.  "She  expects 
to  meet  Refan  Ugo's  caravan;  the  caravan  that  will  meet 
her  will  be  mine,  as  it  was  my  caravan  which  met  you." 

Crossdale  never  once  asked  what  the  alternative  would  be 
for  him  if  he  refused.  He  had  a  plan  in  his  mind;  his  train 
was  laid.  He  stirred  in  his  bonds. 

"If  what  you  say  is  true,"  he  said,  in  as  commonplace 
a  voice  as  he  could  summon,  "it  would  be  rotten  to  leave  a 
woman  there  alone.  Your  politics  are  nothing  to  me,  out 
here.  I  am  more  democratic  than  anything  else,  anyway. 
And,  as  you  put  it  so  pleasantly,  I  have  no  choice.  But 
what  is  going  to  happen  to  my  black  man  servant?  Y/e 
both  go  down,  or  I  will  sell  my  hide  with  his." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  51 

Prince  John  was  searching  him  keenly.  "You  are  a  dead- 
game  sport.  I  liked  you  on  the  boat!" 

"Tell  your  people  to  fix  me  up  something  to  eat  in  the  sad- 
dle, and  give  me  something  to  drink,  too — I  am  thirsty  as  the 
deuce.  None  of  that  damned  reka  stuff,  either!  I  am  not 
a  fire-eater — it  is  good  enough  for  your  soldiers." 

Although  Prince  John  had  made  no  apparent  gesture,  the 
door  was  opened  and  the  guards  came  back.  "Take  Mr. 
Crossdale  to  the  gun  room.  Arm  him;  give  him  pistols  and 
what  he  wants.  Give  him  a  pouch  with  bread  and  cheese  and 
a  bottle  of  wine.  I  put  you,  Crossdale,  in  the  hands  of  my 
own  personal  servant,  the  chap  who  spoke  to  you  when 
you  got  out  of  the  victoria.  He  understands  your  kind  of 
dialect  and  speaks  English." 

Prince  John  had  animated.  His  eyes  were  sparkling. 
"You  are  superb,"  he  said  to  Stephen.  "You  come  of  a 
free  country  and  you  are  a  worthy  son  of  the  republic." 

The  young  man  thrust  his  head  out,  but  he  did  not  move 
to  spring  on  the  Prince — he  had  other  plans.  "Don't  you 
speak  of  my  country  to  me!  In  the  United  States  you  would 
be  strung  up  to  a  lamp-post  and  riddled  with  bullets!  Now 
for  my  man,  Prince  John.  We  don't  desert  each  other  in  the 
place  I  come  from.  Both  of  us,  or  we  will  leave  our  bones 
here.  He  is  my  servant  and  he  follows  on." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CROSSDALE'S  GLASS  is  SMALL  BUT  IT  is 

HIS   OWN   AND   HE  DRINKS   FROM   IT 

Half  an  hour  later  Crossdale  left  Jehanospelz,  the  leader 
of  fifty  good  men  and  true,  riding  at  their  head  in  the  bril- 
liant moonlight,  the  golden  light  penetrating  the  forest,  cov- 
ering the  hills,  down  whose  dark  sides  they  clattered.  Cross- 
dale  experienced  the  singular  sensation  of  retracing  with 
untrammeled  sight  the  road  over  which  he  had  gone  blind- 
folded an  hour  or  so  before.  They  descended  a  hill  peak, 
one  of  the  tufa-like  little  mountains  which  had  fascinated 
him  from  the  Danube  boat.  Back  of  him,  the  mediaeval 
tower  of  Jehanospelz,  which  the  daring  revolutionary  Prince 
had  made  his  stronghold,  rose  above  the  pines.  No  visitor 
was  ever  more  glad  to  get  away  from  an  unchosen  host,  and 
he  blessed  the  good  fortune  which  had  sent  him  forth  again. 
No  matter  toward  what  he  rode,  he  was  turning  his  back  on 
the  Prince  and  his  tower.  The  light  lingered,  blending  with 
the  moonshine,  silvering  them  as  they  rode. 

Jeff  Robinson  began  the  pilgrimage  alongside  of  his  master, 
but  the  negro  soon  fell  back  to  the  rear  and  his  master  for- 
got him. 

The  mountain  trail  was  ugly  enough,  but  to  any  one  ac- 
customed to  rough  riding  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  its 
precipitous  descent,  along  sheer  precipices,  filled  with  moon- 
shine, down  into  whose  depths  pebbles  clattered  from  their 
horses'  hoofs.  Sticking  like  a  burr  to  Crossdale  and  stick- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  S3 

ing  as  well  like  a  burr  to  his  little  red  stallion,  the  Kar- 
manian  detailed  by  Prince  John  to  conduct  the  expedition 
rode  on  Crossdale's  left.  Stephen  had  been  on  fire  for  the 
adventure  from  the  moment  that  Sarvanarof  outlined  it  in 
the  tower,  and  an  idea  which  nothing  but  death  would  dis- 
lodge took  possession  of  him;  a  bullet  alone  could  shoot  this 
spark  out  of  his  brain. 

He  adored  the  night  ride  on  his  first-rate  little  horse;  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  success  or  failure  meant  his  own  life, 
if  not  that  of  a  woman,  he  could  not  but  respond  to  the 
fascination  and  spirit  of  the  ride.  The  air  grew  cold,  and 
it  came  refreshing  and  vivifying,  strong  with  the  scent  of 
balsam  and  cedar;  and  back  of  him  the  fifty  revolutionary 
riders  rode  like  Tartars.  They  had  taken  an  oath  of  good 
faith  to  Crossdale,  pledged  themselves  to  follow  the  Ameri- 
can and  to  return  with  him  to  Jehanospelz. 

He  did  not  ask  himself  whether  he  had  confidence  in  the 
weird  ceremony  in  the  courtyard  under  Prince  John's  win- 
dow. He  had  confidence  in  himself  and  faith  in  his  own 
intention,  and  he  was  taut  as  a  fiddlestring,  keen  as  a  sword, 
and  rode  calling  on  his  lucky  stars. 

The  fellow  at  his  side  was  a  vulgar  little  Karmanian,  low- 
browed, beady-eyed,  short-legged,  and  with  a  rolling  voice 
like  a  little  thunder  storm  in  his  throat.  Stephen  had  ob- 
served him  intently  in  Prince  John's  tower.  The  Prince  had 
called  him  immediately,  confiding  the  American  to  his  spe- 
cial care,  giving  him  minute  directions,  and  as  Crossdale  lis- 
tened, he  realized  how  essential  the  man's  good  will  was. 
As  Prince  John  talked,  Crossdale  noted  the  impression  the 
leader  made  upon  his  servant.  Captain  Zito  received  his 
orders  in  an  ugly  silence,  like  a  thorough  discontent. 


54  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

After  an  hour  or  so  the  little  group  of  riders  came  pelting 
out  of  the  forest,  like  so  much  gray  shot,  and  took  the  open. 
Before  them  the  limitless  moonlit  silence  spread,  and  Cross- 
dale  saw  with  satisfaction  the  forest  disappearing  behind 
them.  The  horses  settled  down  to  a  run,  whilst  the  riders 
crouched  low  in  their  saddles  like  Indians.  He  could  not 
help  smiling  at  the  thought  of  poor  old  Jeff  going  the  pace 
for  life  and  death.  There  was  nothing  in  sight  on  the  face 
of  the  steppes,  no  shrub  or  tree,  only  moonlight  pouring  over 
the  pink  land.  He  heard  over  and  over  again  the  "Aara, 
aara,  ra,  ra,"  the  native  order  from  the  throats  of  the  sol- 
diers to  their  beasts. 

How  they  rode!  He  drank  in  moonlight,  seemed  to 
swallow  it,  with  the  fine  dust  thrown  up  to  them  from  the 
pelting  hoofs  of  the  little  stallions;  and  for  the  first  time 
perceived  the  subtle  perfume  of  the  plains.  After  a  little 
he  drew  his  horse  up  and  called  to  his  companion:  "Stop, 
Zorba  (chief).  I  want  to  drink!" 

Captain  Zito  started  at  Crossdale's  authoritative  tone;  he 
recognized  the  voice  of  a  superior,  of  a  man  used  to  com- 
mand. He  threw  back  over  his  shoulder  a  gutteral  order,  and 
the  troop  brought  their  horses  to  a  halt. 

Crossdale  drank  from  the  bottle  in  his  pocket  and  ate 
something  from  his  pouch.  He  looked  back  past  the  rude, 
Slav  faces  to  find  Jeff  Robinson.  It  would  have  taken  a 
good  deal  to  have  impressed  him,  however,  in  this  moment 
of  excitement;  even  Jeff's  disappearance  would  have  moved 
him  little.  But  he  saw  the  negro  hugging  his  saddle,  cling- 
ing like  a  crab  to  his  mount,  white  as  Crossdale,  very  nearly, 
powdered  with  dust.  He  was  a  spectacle  which  at  another 
time  would  have  made  his  master  roar  with  laughter. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  55 

"Buck  up,  Jeff!  Pray  for  luck!  Captain  Zito,"  he  said 
sharply  to  the  Karmanian,  "let's  get  on." 

As  they  rode  together,  never  turning  to  look  at  the  other 
man,  but  throwing  out  his  words  to  him,  he  said:  "I  picked 
you  out  in  the  tower,  when  your  chief  was  giving  you 
orders.  You're  a  good  chap — not  the  kind  of  man  to  be  led, 
however;  you  should  lead." 

Zito  listened,  then  rose  in  his  saddle  to  scan  the  plains,  in 
search  of  the  point  where  the  Queen's  motor  should  appear. 
Crossdale  understood,  and  there  came  to  him  an  intense 
desire  to  protect  this  woman,  whose  reputation  for  beauty 
and  intelligence  and  goodness  had  already  given  her,  to  him, 
a  strong  personality.  What  a  weird  kick  of  Fate  to  cast  him 
in  the  middle  of  a  Balkan  desert  to  kidnap  a  Queen! 

Zito  this  time  drew  his  horse  down  and  called  halt,  and 
pointing  with  his  short  arm  out  into  the  moonlight:  "There, 
there,  Excellency,  Lord!" 

Under  the  moon,  not  three  miles  away,  Crossdale  saw 
a  fleck,  a  speck.  A  cold  chill  struck  him,  for  the  thing  was 
beginning  to  take  reality  and  form,  a  question  of  life,  per- 
haps death!  In  that  little  object  that  looked  like  a  black 
beetle  on  a  pancake,  was  a  woman,  at  the  mercy  of  these 
men! 

"That  is  the  Queen's  motor,  Excellency,  Lord.  She  has 
two  outriders  and  the  man  on  the  box  with  the  chauffeur — 
four  people,  and  all  ours."  He  laughed.  But  his  laugh  was 
not  mirthful;  it  was  rather  bitter  and  sardonic. 

Crossdale  said:  "And  Captain  Refan  Ugo's  escort?" 

"Excellency,  Lord,  her  Majesty  has  been  driven  twenty 
miles  out  of  her  way,  as  you  were  driven." 

For  lack  of  something  to  say,  in  order  to  collect  his 


56  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

thoughts  for  a  moment,  the  American  said:  "These  mounts 
of  ours,  Zito — are  they  good  for  the  return  trip?"  Again 
the  Karmanian's  little  bubbling  chuckle. 

"They  could  ride  to  hell  and  bring  back  the  devil's  wife, 
Excellency,  Lord." 

"Ah,"  thought  Crossdale  deeply,  "thank  God  I  did  not 
let  him  go  alone  to  meet  a  woman,  the  damned  Greaser!" 

The  escort  of  the  Queen  had  seen  the  advancing  riders. 
The  distance  between  them  could  be  made  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour.  There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Crude,  clumsy 
as  his  plan  might  be,  it  was  his  chance,  and  he  would  take 
it,  if  it  meant  that  the  soldiers  riddled  him  with  bullets  from 
the  guns  slung  across  their  backs!  Crossdale  had  not  learned 
Karmanian  dialect  at  his  nurse's  knee  for  nothing.  He  was 
a  born  leader,  an  inspirer,  and  he  believed  in  fate.  Why 
had  he  been  sent,  not  these  fellows  alone,  in  this  dramatic 
fashion,  if  not  to  corrupt  them,  to  entrain  them  for  his  own 
ends?  He  murmured,  as  though  to  encourage  himself,  un- 
der his  breath:  "Heljen/" 

"Zito!"  In  Karmanian  the  word  "listen"  has  a  flexible 
meaning.  It  means:  "Hear  and  be  blessed";  it  means  also; 
"Hear  and  be  cursed";  it  is  also  a  strong  and  powerful  com- 
mand, and  as  Crossdale  said  it  now,  out  on  the  Karmanian 
plain,  it  seemed  to  ring  to  the  little  captain  like  the  sound 
of  steel.  "Zito,  listen!"  Crossdale  touched  his  fellow 
rider  on  the  breast,  which  was  as  well  a  Karmanian  custom, 
impelling  respect  and  putting  in  a  way  a  seal  upon  the  other. 
"Listen,  you  are  out  for  success,  cut  out  for  greatness, 
Brevo!  But  you  are  on  the  wrong  track.  Listen,  then  help 
me  to  talk  to  these  fellows." 

Crossdale  ventured  a  bold  hypothesis.  It  had  been  born 
in  Prince  John's  tower. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  57 

"Zito,  I  know  you  hate  the  Prince.  You  are  sick  of  him 
and  his  revolution.  If  you  carry  out  his  plan  tonight,  you 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  you  will  be  a  marked  man  for  the 
Royalists,  and  more  than  likely  the  Prince  will  put  you 
out  of  the  way,  so  that  you  may  tell  no  tales.  Listen!  I 
shall  never  go  back  to  Jehanospelz,  and  you  shall  never  go 
back!" 

He  could  not  have  told  any  one  the  sum  and  substance 
of  his  impassioned  words  to  this  man,  the  words  which  he 
said  into  Zito's  eyes,  at  first  sullen,  then  more  and  more 
human  under  his  spell.  He  never  remembered  what  note 
he  struck  and  hammered  on.  He  appealed  to  greed,  vanity, 
patriotism;  raked  up  ideals;  hurled  words  in  low  hot  tones, 
half  English,  half  in  dialect.  He  swayed  the  fellow.  The 
fifty  good  men  and  true  paid  little  attention  to  them,  glad 
to  munch  and  drink  and  smoke,  waiting  for  orders  in  their 
saddles.  They  were  those  who  follow,  not  those  who  lead — 
ignorant,  low-minded,  half-dazed  with  reka.  Crossdale 
promised  gold  from  America,  safe-conduct  to  the  great  Re- 
public. He  spoke  of  Queen's  rewards. 

Zito  had  been  impressed  by  Crossdale  from  the  moment 
he  had  bound  him  hand  and  foot  and  blindfolded  him  on 
these  selfsame  plains.  The  American's  attitude  before  Zito's 
prince,  his  pale  dignity,  his  courage,  had  impressed  and 
charmed  the  volatile  temperament  of  the  Slav. 

And  he  did  hate  Sarvanarof.  He  had  been  a  petty  officer 
in  the  Queen's  regiment  and  had  gone  over  to  the  revo- 
lutionary forces,  deserting  from  the  army  after  a  severe 
punishment  for  some  small  offence.  He  was  homesick  for 
Savia  and  his  peasant  wife,  disgruntled  and  ripe  for  a  new 
desertion.  The  Prince  indeed  had  ill-chosen  his  representa- 
tive! 


58  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Zito  said,  his  eyes  on  the  eager  American:  "Lord,  Ex- 
cellency, I  am  only  one  man!  There  are  forty-nine  of  them, 
but  I  think  I  know  them.  They  are  good  boys,  Excellency, 
Lord.  I  shall  speak  to  them.  And  when  I  stop  you  will 
follow.  Speak  not  long.  Let  us  catch  them  hot.  And  when 
I  strike  you  on  the  breast — speak ! " 

Crossdale  had  never  been  so  excited  in  his  life.  He 
watched  the  little  captain  wheel;  he  heard  him  call  out  the 
same  word  that  Crossdale  had  so  worked  for  all  it  was 
worth;  "Gradol  Listen!"  And  then  he  heard  the  harangue, 
saw  Zito's  fierce,  energetic  gestures,  his  working  hands  in 
the  air,  hands  that  beat  his  own  breast.  He  saw  him  crane 
his  short  neck  out  and  spit  on  the  ground,  rising  in  his 
stirrups.  He  watched  the  man's  excited  appeal,  which  he 
could  not  follow  or  understand,  then  looked  from  one  to 
another  of  the  soldiers'  faces — heavy,  sullen,  unillumined, 
and  he  could  not  tell  if  they  were  inclined  to  hew  down  Zito 
and  himself,  or  follow  them. 

He  heard  an  appeal  to  them  for  loyalty  to  the  Queen, 
return  to  old  customs,  call  for  the  desertion  of  Prince  Sar- 
vanarof,  the  revocation  of  their  pledged  word.  And  when 
Zito  smote  him  on  the  breast,  not  any  too  gentle  a  blow, 
Crossdale  was  ready.  He  too  stood  up  in  his  stirrups,  cried 
out:  "H el jen,  Las  Renal" 

He  waited  for  the  men  to  turn  on  him  and  shoot  him 
down.  What  would  keep  them  from  it?  Only  the  curious 
tide  which  sways  mobs  by  sudden  force  and  passion.  Before 
he  could  be  disappointed  by  an  ominous  silence  on  the 
part  of  the  soldiers,  or  by  their  bursting  into  a  cry  of: 
"Sava  Jehanos!"  he  made  a  short,  eager  appeal  in  the  dia- 
lect, gathering  together  everything  he  could  remember  of 


THE  QUEEN  OF  KARMANIA  59 

the  words  he  had  learned  so  long  ago.  They  would  be  lords; 
they  would  be  rich.  And  he  cried  so  earnestly  the  viva  and 
hail  of  this  sovereign  of  a  country  he  did  not  know  that 
the  men  broke  into  a  storm  of  cheering,  and  the  Queen's 
escort,  half  a  mile  away,  heard  the:  "Heljen!  Heljen!"  fill- 
ing the  still  night  air,  and  returned  it.  Lights  of  excitement 
and  exhilaration  scintillating  in  his  brain,  the  American 
wheeled  with  Zito  and  rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
Queen's  motor,  the  fifty  good  men  and  true  hot  on  their 
heels. 

There  in  the  center  of  the  plain,  like  a  plum  in  a  cake,  a 
fly  on  an  amber  mirror,  not  to  be  mistaken  for  a  shrub  or  a 
tree,  stood  that  civilized  vehicle  of  transportation — a  motor- 
car. Crossdale  could  see  on  the  box  a  chauffeur  and  another 
man,  which  last  sprang  off  and  came  round  and  stood  with 
two  other  guards.  He  had  been  assured  that  the  servants 
were  spies  of  the  revolutionary  Prince.  Things  were  com- 
ing along!  This  was  reality  and  the  rest  a  dream. 

Stephen  Crossdale,  of  San  Francisco,  U.  S.  A.,  in  the  crux 
of  an  extraordinary  situation,  in  a  few  moments  would  take 
his  place  among  the  melodramatic  heroes:  "The  Man  Who 
Saves  a  Queen!"  "The  Democratic  Yankee  Who  Put  a 
Spoke  in  the  Wheel  of  a  Petty  Revolution!"  And  so  forth. 
Honors,  publicity.  Gosh!  How  it  would  read  in  a  home 
paper. 

But  the  honors  did  not  say  a  single  thing  to  Stephen 
Crossdale,  whose  good  sense  and  a  hatred  of  the  ridiculous 
would  not  let  him  lose  his  head.  He  tapped  Captain  Zito 
on  the  breast.  "Zito,  you  are  the  true  chief  here.  This  is 
your  job.  It  is  your  country  and  your  Queen.  Gad,  man,  it 
is  your  chance  to  cut  ice  for  yourself  I  I  am  not  the  chap  to 


60  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

take  your  glory."  He  pushed  forward  the  little  Karmanian. 
"Go  on— tell  your. Queen  any  old  lie  you  like,  but,  my  boy, 
keep  me  out  of  it.  Understand?"  He  looked  hard  into  the 
eyes  of  the  little  fellow,  who  saw  that  the  American  meant 
what  he  said. 

"Tell  her  that  you've  recanted,  your  men  are  solid  for 
you,  you've  saved  her  from  abduction.  Ask  pardon,  safe- 
conduct.  Go  along,  Zito — it  is  a  great,  great  bit  of  luck 
for  you,  old  boy.  We'll  clatter  along  behind  you  until  we 
meet  Captain  Ugo  and  his  tribe." 

At  these  words  the  other's  expression  changed.  He  mut- 
tered: "Urn — um— Ugo  and  his  people — safe-conduct — 
pardon — " 

Crossdale  insisted,  driving  him  toward  the  motor. 

"Get  along — Queens  should  never  wait!  Cry  a  lot  of 
'H el jens I' — we'll  chorus  you.  But  mind,  don't  you  peep 
my  name."  Now  Crossdale  caught  the  Karmanian  by  the 
arm.  "I  am  the  type  of  man  who  keeps  my  word,"  he  said 
quietly.  "If  you  say  nothing  whatsoever  about  me  to  the 
Queen  of  Karmania,  I  will  not  betray  your  chief." 

"Excellency,"  said  the  Karmanian,  speaking  very  quickly 
and  with  more  feeling  than  Crossdale  had  seen  him  yet 
display,  "swear  you  will  not  betray  us!" 

"You  bet  I  won't!"  said  Crossdale  peacefully.  "I  do  not 
intend  to  get  mixed  up  with  your  politics." 

Zitc  lifted  Crossdale's  hand  to  his  forehead;  he  spat  on  the 
ground  between  them,  saying:  "That  is  a  blood  sign  in  Kar- 
mania, between  you  and  me." 

And  he  started  off  toward  the  motor.  Crossdale  walked 
slowly  back,  with  his  bridle  on  his  arm,  sincerely  pleased. 
He  had  won  a  victory  and  he  was  keeping  in  the  background. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  61 

Captain  Zito  was  welcomed  by  a  murmured:  "Saval"  or 
"Heljen/"—How  the  devil  could  Crossdale  tell?  He  could 
see  the  little  group  round  the  motor.  In  the  interval  between 
his  impassioned  harangue  of  the  fifty  good  men  and  true, 
Crossdale  fell  from  his  transcendant  pinnacle.  He  felt  secure 
in  the  probability  of  a  good  performance.  The  Queen 
of  Karmania  was  no  longer  in  danger  of  being  kidnapped — 
on  this  occasion,  at  all  events.  She  would  not  be  called  upon 
to  show  her  pluck  and  her  courage;  she  would  not  ride  blind- 
folded, ignominiously,  between  himself  and  Captain  Zito, 
and  he  fondly  believed  that  Prince  John  would  not  enter- 
tain the  royal  visitor  at  Jehanospelz  tonight.  So  far,  so  good. 
He  was  gratified,  but  did  not  relish  being  in  the  limelight. 

He  could  see  a  woman's  face  at  the  motor  window.  The 
door  was  opened.  He  could  see  Captain  Zito  bend  almost 
double,  a  very  profound  salutation  for  a  revolutionary 
leader.  Crossdale  smiled.  How  capricious  in  their  phases 
the  human  sentiments  are!  The  little  company  of  Prince 
John's  men  were  contentedly  smoking,  apparently  satisfied 
with  their  sudden  transition  from  hot-handed  outlawry  to 
the  role  of  protectors  of  their  Sovereign.  Crossdale  heard 
them  break  into  the  music  of  the  Queen's  last  song: 
"What  shall  we  give  to  the  rider?" 

It  came  to  him  hoarsely  from  the  throats  of  these  ruffians, 
but  it  had  a  certain  rolling,  rich  beauty,  and  seemed  fitting 
at  the  moment.  The  Queen  who  had  created  the  words  and 
the  music  must  have  thrilled.  'It  had  its  thrill  for  Cross- 
dale.  What  would  have  happened  to  Queen  Karmen  Mara 
if  he  had  not  been  knocked  down  and  overpowered  by 
Prince  John's  men,  and  then  constituted  himself  her  cham- 
pion? In  an  incredibly  short  time  Captain  Zito  returned. 


62  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Crossdale  saw  the  chauffeur  start  the  car,  the  footman 
climbed  back  on  the  box,  and  with  a  guard  on  either  side 
the  motor  turned  and  moved  rapidly  off,  retracing  its  road. 

Captain  Zito  rode  up  to  them  quickly,  wheeled,  screamed 
out  an  order  to  his  men,  which  Crossdale  did  not  quite  fol- 
low, but  the  men  sprang  to  their  saddles.  The  Karmanian 
leaned  over  and  struck  Crossdale's  horse  and  the  lot  of  them 
galloped  at  breakneck  speed  after  the  Queen's  motor.  Zito 
had  changed,  his  tenor  had  altered;  there  was  a  great  trans- 
formation in  the  little  chief.  Now  he  turned  to  Crossdale 
a  hang-dog,  sullen  little  face,  chopping  out  his  words. 

"I  don't  know  what  devil's  spell  you  cast  over  me,  back 
there  in  the  woods!  When  I  got  to  the  motor  door  I  came 
to  my  senses!  The  Queen  frightened  me  to  death;  she  is  so 
high,  so  cold.  I  could  not  speak  to  her.  I  saw  she  could 
never  have  forgiven  me.  She  would  have  had  us  all  shot. 
And  what  am  I — Zito  Terowitz,  of  a  butcher's  family,  a  de- 
serter, a  peasant — to  speak  to  a  Queen?  I  saw  what  a  fool 
you  had  made  of  me  and  what  a  double  traitor  I  had  been!" 

They  were  riding  fast  as  the  Karmanian  spoke,  in  his 
broken  English,  mingled  with  the  dialect.  The  lights  on  the 
back  of  the  motor  were  little  red  stars  to  follow.  They  had 
twenty  miles  of  road  to  retrace  in  order  to  regain  the  point 
at  which  their  route  had  been  misdirected.  But  Crossdale 
was  quite  certain  that  Ugo's  caravan  would  come  out  to 
meet  them. 

"If  my  chief  does  not  murder  me  when  I  return,"  said 
Captain  Zito,  "I  will  keep  you  under  surveillance  whilst  you 
are  in  Karmania.  So  long  as  you  hold  your  faith  with  us 
and  don't  betray  the  Prince,  you  will  be  safe.  Karmania  is 
full  of  our  people,  and  if  you  betray  Jehanospelz,  you  will 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  63 

meet  the  same  fate  as  Baumgarten  met  at  the  hands  of  the 
royalists." 

"Shut  up!"  said  the  Californian.  "When  a  man  of  my 
type  gives  his  word  he  keeps  it.  I  have  not  three  or  four 
masters,  as  you  have.  I  have  one  word.  And  at  all  events, 
the  Queen  has  been  put  on  the  right  road — that  is  all  I  care 
for." 

Zito  and  Crossdale  exchanged  no  further  word  between 
them.  The  Karmanian  was  full  of  remorse  and  anger  and 
hot  to  be  back  on  the  homeward  trail.  They  kept  the 
motor  in  sight  for  a  certain  time  and  then  Zito  called  a  halt, 
and  they  waited  in  silence.  It  was  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour 
for  Crossdale.  The  moon  was  waning.  Finally,  in  the  far 
distance,  beyond  the  almost  indistinguishable  pin  point  that 
the  motor  had  become,  they  could  discern  a  blotch  on  the 
plain,  the  caravan  of  Refan  Ugo. 

The  captain  of  the  fifty  good  men  and  true  became  a 
screaming  Tartar.  He  did  not  give  his  orders;  he  hurled 
them  forth  at  the  men  whom  he  himself  now  dominated 
anew.  Crossdale  and  his  negro  servant  were  torn  from  their 
saddles.  They  took  Jeff  fighting  like  a  bull;  but  Crossdale's 
fight  would  have  been  barehanded  against  fifty  men,  for  his 
pistol  was  ripped  from  his  hip-pocket;  and  they  bound 
Jeff  and  himself  hand  and  foot  again,  and  left  them  lying  on 
the  plain. 

Captain  Zito,  standing  in  front  of  him,  spat  again  upon 
the  ground  and  made  the  sign  of  the  Cross  over  the  Ameri- 
can. As  he  stood,  glowering,  above  the  man  whom  he  had 
overpowered,  there  was  fury  and  passion  on  his  face,  but  no 
dislike.  "There  is  an  oath  between  us,"  he  said.  "Refan 
Ugo's  people  will  find  you.  Keep  your  word." 


64  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Crossdale  heard  them  go  riding  off  to  their  savage  and 
impressive  cry,  now  once  more  that  of  the  revolutionary 
party:  "Sava,  sava,  Jehanos!"  The  sound  of  their  going 
had  not  yet  died  upon  the  air  before  the  four  men  who  had 
accompanied  the  motor  of  the  Queen  came  tearing  past  the 
two  men  lying  upon  the  ground.  They  rushed  by  like  the 
wind.  Leaning  down  out  of  their  saddles,  they  jeered  and 
laughed  at  these  strangers,  whom  their  chief  had  made  the 
sport  of  them  all.  They  tore  past  to  join  their  companions. 

When  there  was  no  longer  any  sound  to  break  the  impres- 
sive silence,  when  Crossdale  could  no  longer  hear  any  evi- 
dence of  the  presence  of  either  his  enemies  or  a  company  of 
rescue,  he  called  out  to  Jefferson  Robinson:  "Hallo  there, 
Jeff!" 

He  had  no  doubt  whatsoever  that  they  would  be  found 
and  picked  up,  but  perhaps  not  for  hours. 

"Boss!  I  say,  Boss!"  The  negro  whispered  in  a  sepulchral 
and  guarded  tone,  as  though  his  poor  voice  could  make  any 
impression  on  that  vast  unbroken  silence,  or  whether  it 
mattered  who  heard,  "Did  my  eyes  deceive  me,  or  did  I  see 
a  motor  kyar  standing  in  de  middle  of  this  hyar  wilderness?" 

"Yes,  you  certainly  saw  a  first  rate  flivver,  Jeff." 

"Well,  suh,  Mr.  Crossdale,  why  didn't  we  get  aboard?" 

"Well,  because  we're  not  Kings,  Jeff." 

The  negro  gasped.  His  voice  was  something  between  a 
sob  and  an  effort  to  be  as  plucky  as  his  master.  "Well,  I 
reckon  we  done  missed  de  last  car  tonight,  Boss.  I  reckon 
it's  an  even  chance  that  we  ever  get  back  to  cibilization." 

"I  guess  that's  right,  Jeff,"  said  his  master.  "Could  you 
roll  over  to  me  and  get  me  a  cigarette  out  of  my  breast- 
pocket with  your  teeth?" 


CHAPTER  VII 

TO  ALWAYS  KEEP  IN  MIND  THE  REASON   FOR  ONE'S 

JOURNEY  AND  TO  BE  ABLE  TO  FORGET  THE  INN  BEDS 

ARE   TWO   OF    THE   ATTRIBUTES   OF   THE   GOOD   TRAVELER 

The  thing  which  amused  Crossdale  above  all  else  was  the 
way  in  which  he  fell  into  and  fell  out  of  his  adventure  with- 
out causing  the  least  sensation  in  Karmania.  The  fact 
that  he  had  effected  the  escape  of  the  sovereign  of  the 
country  from  abduction  by  her  rebellious  subjects  passed 
Crossdale  did  not  know  into  what  annals,  certainly  into  none 
that  he  ever  expected  to  read.  The  fact  that  the  engineer 
of  the  new  Karmanian  State  Railway,  who  had  come  from 
the  U.  S.  A.  to  work  for  the  Government,  lay  trussed  like 
an  ignominious  turkey  for  hours  on  the  cold  face  of  the 
Karmanian  steppes — until  the  morning  dew  penetrated  his 
bones  and  threatened  to  lay  the  seeds  for  a  jolly  good  attack 
of  inflammatory  rheumatism,  to  say  the  least — cut  no 
ice  at  all  in  the  minds  of  the  Karmanians,  as  far  as  he 
could  tell. 

In  the  morning  Refan  Ugo's  search  party  gathered  him  up 
like  an  unimportant  mass  of  sacking  or  a  bag  of  coffee,  re- 
leased and  untied  him  and  his  man  servant,  and  drove 
them  in  a  mule  cart  to  the  famous  crossroads  from  which 
his  route  and  that  of  the  Queen  of  Karmania  had  deviated 
twenty-four  hours  before.  Except  for  the  cords  which  had 
bound  Jeff  and  himself,  and  which  were  frugally  rolled  up  in 


66  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  back  of  the  mule  cart;  except  for  a  stiff,  bruised,  numb 
condition  of  back  and  limbs,  and  a  feeling  in  his  heart  of 
mingled  disgust,  amusement  and  triumph,  there  was  noth- 
ing left  to  Crossdale  of  his  first  experience  in  the  Kingdom. 

He  was  scarcely  in  a  fit  condition  then  to  appreciate  the 
originality  of  Refan  Ugo's  caravan,  waiting  to  meet  the 
rescuing  mule  cart,  with  which  he  should  have  joined  up  the 
day  before.  He  had  never  traveled  with  anything  that 
looked  like  it,  however,  before.  Two  horses,  with  English 
saddles,  the  only  commonplace  objects  in  the  group  of  some 
hundred  soldiers  and  servants,  waited  beside  tents  of  yel- 
low canvas  at  the  crossroads  between  Tamaresk  and  Cye, 
— between,  Crossdale  could  have  informed  them,  Tamaresk 
and  the  rebel  army  at  Jehanospelz ;  but  no  doubt  they  knew 
it  quite  as  well  as  he  did. 

At  rest,  busily  feeding  on  bunches  of  grass,  conveniently 
adjusted  where  they  could  bite  into  it  and  devour  it  to  the 
last  spear,  a  group  of  long-tailed,  under  sized  splendid  little 
stallions,  with  native  saddles  of  red  and  green  and  blue 
leather,  flanked  the  encampment.  Close  to  his  beast,  either 
cross-legged  in  front  of  him,  or  standing  patiently  by  the 
saddle,  were  the  riders,  in  full  trousers,  soft  wrinkled  boots, 
and  broidered  jackets  and  tarbushes.  Many  of  the  horses 
carried  bright  colored  boxes  of  blue  and  yellow,  painted 
with  extraordinary  skill  with  religious  pictures  or  scenes 
from  the  history  of  the  Karmanian  republic  and  monarchy. 

A  bit  further  on  was  a  detachment  of  the  Queen's  Guard, 
in  myrtle  green,  a  color  whose  tone  and  quality  Crossdale 
grew  to  know  well.  The  group,  gay,  barbaric,  colorful  and 
decorative,  might  have  been  rubbed  into  existence  by  Alad- 
din with  his  lamp.  The  officer  in  command  came  up  to  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  67 

mule  cart — from  which  Stephen  Crossdale  got  out  without 
assistance,  and  from  which  Jefferson  Robinson  was  carried 
bodily,  in  profound  slumber,  from  which  nothing  but  a  pro- 
longed cry  of  "Sava,  sava,  Jehanos!"  would  have  awakened 
him. 

The  Queen's  officer  came  forward,  affably,  pleasantly, 
with  an  expression  on  his  face  which  Crossdale  scarcely 
knew  whether  to  find  humorous  or  sarcastic.  He  stood 
stiffly  and  saluted  with  the  back  of  his  hand  pressed  against 
his  forehead.  He  said  to  the  American,  in  excellent  Eng- 
lish: 

"I  am  Lieutenant  Stanislas  Korvan,  of  the  Queen's 
Guard,  Mr.  Crossdale.  I  bring  the  compliments  and 
apologies  of  Captain  Ugo.  He  is  on  duty  with  the  escort 
of  the  Queen.  He  is  sorry  not  to  be  here." 

"By  Jove!"  thought  the  American  to  himself.  "If  that 
is  all  he  is  going  to  say  about  it,  he  won't  get  anything 
more  from  me! "  And  he  returned  curtly:  "That's  all  right. 
See  that  my  man  is  looked  after,  will  you?  What  I  am  con- 
cerned about  is  my  luggage.  It  did  not  leave  Tamaresk 
with  me;  I  understood  it  was  to  follow  in  a  few  hours." 
And  he  asked,  as  though  it  might  have  been  checked  from 
Boston  to  New  York:  "Have  you  heard  anything  of  it? 
Has  it  turned  up?" 

The  officer  smiled  under  his  close-cropped  moustache.  He 
liked  Crossdale's  nonchalance.  He  pointed  to  one  of  the 
little  tents,  which  to  Crossdale  was  the  most  inviting-looking 
thing  he  had  ever  seen.  Sore  as  though  he  had  been  beaten, 
dirty  and  hungry,  he  wanted  a  bath,  a  bed,  a  clean 
shirt — in  short,  some  of  the  attractions  of  the  civilization 
for  which  Jeff  had  pined  from  the  beginning.  "Part  of 


68  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

your  luggage  is  in  the  tent,  Mr.  Crossdale.  The  rest  is 
strapped  on  the  mules  and  will  follow  on." 

Crossdale  could  see  within  the  flap  of  the  tent  a  military 
bed;  there  was  a  native  kitchen  in  full  play  in  the  open,  and 
he  smelt  food.  If  this  Karmanian  had  not  been  such  a  total 
stranger  and  such  a  confounded  stick,  he  would  have 
slapped  him  on  the  back  and  wrung  his  hand  in  sheer  content. 

"This,"  said  the  officer,  "is  the  best  we  can  do  on  the 
plains.  You  will  find  hot  water,  and  I  dare  say  you  can 
make  shift  for  a  wash-up." 

Crossdale  went  into  the  little  peaked  room,  dropped  the 
tent  flap  behind  him,  and  faced  two  of  his  valises  and  the 
preparations  for  a  hot  bath.  Not  one  question  had  been 
asked  him,  not  one  remark  had  been  made  about  his  extraor- 
dinary entrance  into  the  country.  It  puzzled  him  and  made 
him  mad.  From  that  moment  until  they  reached  the  village 
of  Cye,  a  night  and  two  days'  journey  further  on,  he 
answered  no  questions  and  asked  none  of  his  traveling  com- 
panion. 

They  journeyed  the  following  day  across  the  steppes, 
through  a  violet  mist,  covering  the  plains,  and  when  the 
peculiar  mirage  lifted,  Crossdale  saw  before  him  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Karmanian  ranges.  Their  rise  had  been  gradual, 
and  there  was  splendor  in  the  heaven-sweeping  mountains, 
climbing  sheer  from  the  lavender  land  into  the  sky.  From 
crests  to  the  foothills  dark  forests  dropped  their  inky  veils. 

"See,  Mr.  Crossdale,"  said  the  young  man  riding  by  his 
side,  "that  is  Mount  Nepta,  the  highest  peak  in  the  Kar- 
manian ranges,  and  at  its  base  is  the  entrance  of  Baum- 
garten's  tunnel,  the  entrance  which  he  made  on  the  Tamaresk 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  69 

side.  Tomorrow  you  will  sleep  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
point  where  poor  Baumgarten's  tunnel  debouches." 

Tunnels  and  royal  State  railways,  the  idea  of  matter- 
of-fact  and  every  day  engineering,  came  with  a  sudden 
shock  to  Crossdale,  intoxicated  as  he  was  now  with  the 
open-air  life  and  the  fascination  of  his  journey.  The  country 
was  so  beautiful  and  so  weird.  It  seemed  a  crime  to  scar  it 
with  the  lines  of  modern  transportation  and  to  break  the 
silences  with  the  toot  of  engines  and  the  noise  of  steam. 
Crossdale  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  the  black  curtain  of 
forests.  That  curtain  fell  between  him  and  Savia! 

"The  capital,"  his  companion  said,  "is  a  jewel.  It  is  the 
most  beautiful  city  in  the  East." 

"Every  man's  home  town  is  good  to  him,  Lieutenant 
Korvan,"  said  Crossdale  succinctly.  "I  have  got  a  little 
ranch  in  California  that  does  not  need  me  to  speak  for  it." 

The  young  man  bowed  indulgently.  "Wait,  Mr.  Cross- 
dale,"  he  said,  "and  see."  And  then  Lieutenant  Korvan 
asked  his  first  question  of  his  traveling  companion.  "You 
are  a  democrat?" 

"To  the  backbone,"  said  Crossdale  stoutly.  Whether 
this  pleased  Lieutenant  Korvan  or  not  he  had  no  means  of 
knowing. 

"It  will  be  well,"  said  the  Karmanian  gently,  "to  disguise 
your  republican  fervor  in  Karmania.  We  are  conserva- 
tive." They  were  riding  toward  the  village  of  Cye,  already 
apparent  in  the  distance  in  a  cluster  of  yellow  stucco 
houses,  its  little  spirals  of  smoke  rising  on  the  air. 

"I  am  a  democrat,"  said  Crossdale,  "but  I  am  not  a 
politician,  and  I  don't  care  a  whoop  about  other  people's 


70  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

governments.  But,"  he  said  frankly,  lifting  his  fine  head 
and  meeting  the  eyes  of  his  conductor,  "I  came  across  a 
very  distinguished  and  interesting  man  on  the  Danube  boat." 

He  waited.  The  Karmanian  showed  a  polite  but  distinctly 
tentative  interest.  "He  was  your  former  Prime  Minister," 
said  the  young  man,  "Prince  John  Sarvanarof." 

"Ah,  yes."  Korvan  nodded.  "He  is  an  exile.  Before  the 
war  broke  out  he  was  Prime  Minister — That,  Mr.  Cross- 
dale,"  he  pointed  expressively,  "is  the  village  of  Cye." 

It  was  sunset  when  the  caravan  drew  up  in  front  of  the 
little  inn  on  the  single  rustic  street,  whose  narrow  roadway 
led  directly  into  the  wide  Karmanian  plains.  Some  hundred 
canvas-covered  stucco  huts,  their  yellow  walls  hung  with 
drying  fruits,  ears  of  scarlet  corn,  yellow  chains  of  tiny 
tomatoes,  clustered  like  jewels  against  the  stucco;  a  white 
church  dome,  like  a  round  moon  against  the  dark  forest;  a 
ruined  castle,  with  the  town  clustering  round  it  like  children 
at  the  knees  of  age;  a  thickly  populated  little  mountain 
hamlet — this  was  Cye,  a  little  township  like  hundreds  of 
others  throughout  the  Balkans. 

In  front  of  the  tavern,  as  the  caravan  drew  up,  the 
peasants  were  dancing  and  singing,  whirling  in  their  stiff 
skirts,  and  the  tune  the  musicians  were  playing  was  familiar 
to  Crossdale;  it  seemed  to  pursue  him,  to  follow  him  every- 
where. 

"What  shall  be  given 

To  him  who  comes  riding . . . . " 

In  lovely  little  Cye  Crossdale  waited  three  days,  figura- 
tively kicking  his  heels  against  the  inn  walls,  with  nothing 


71 


more  amusing  to  do  than  to  study  the  peasant  life  from  the 
inn  terrace,  observing  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  half- 
barbaric,  wholly  delightful  habitants,  on  their  way  from 
market  to  town  and  from  town  to  their  farms. 

In  a  rude  little  room  in  the  roof  of  the  rude  little  inn  in 
the  heart  of  the  warm  hamlet,  the  perfume  of  the  September 
fields  around  it,  with  a  constant  performance  in  the  shape  of 
singing  and  dancing  going  on  in  the  inn  yard  from  noon  to 
midnight,  Crossdale  made  better  acquaintance  with  Lieu- 
tenant Korvan  whilst  waiting  instructions.  He  liked 
reticence;  he  was  reserved  by  temperament.  But  Lieutenant 
Stanislas  Korvan  rather  overdid  the  noncommittal  act. 
Crossdale  was  forced  to  take  his  cue  from  the  young  man. 
He  was  far  too  clever  to  put  questions  to  this  official  which 
might  be  evaded,  and  yet  he  was  Yankee  enough  to  have  a 
lively  curiosity  about  many  things,  and  chiefly  he  wanted  to 
know  what  had  happened  to  the  Queen  of  Karmania  and 
how  much  had  been  told  her  of  the  truth  of  their  mutual 
adventure. 

Throughout  the  first  twelve  hours  he  had  slept  like  a  log, 
and  as  for  Jeff  Robinson,  the  bubonic  plague  seemed  to  have 
struck  him,  and  after  one  or  two  attempts  with  a  wet  towel 
and  after  shying  his  boots  at  the  negro,  his  master  left  him 
to  sleep  his  sleep  out. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  day  in  desperation  Crossdale 
said  to  Korvan:  "For  a  chap  who  is  making  a  study  of 
morgues,  Korvan,  Cye  would  be  of  prime  interest.  Frankly, 
I  have  used  it  up!" 

From  the  front  yard  of  the  inn,  where  he  sat  with  Korvan 
at  a  little  table  drinking  the  weakest  attenuation  of  the  fiery 


72  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

reka,  smoking  countless  delicious  Karmanian  cigaretis,  he 
saw  many  things  go  by  and  some  few  events  transpire.  He 
saw  a  compact,  businesslike-looking  little  army  of  soldiers 
ride  away  toward  the  west — toward,  Crossdale  fully  believed, 
Jehanospelz.  They  departed  to  a  chorus  of  royal  and  loyal 
huzzas.  Prince  John  was  going  to  have  a  lively  time  of  it! 

But  he  and  Stanislas  Korvan  talked  of  nothing  less  than 
of  politics — and  on  their  three  short  days  of  acquaintance- 
ship they  talked  on  a  great  many  subjects,  from  the  opera 
in  New  York  to  the  latest  type  of  agricultural  tool.  He  liked 
the  young  man  thoroughly,  and  it  amused  Crossdale  down 
to  the  ground  to  see  how  well  he  handled  his  job,  playing  the 
part  of  a  courteous  host,  in  as  far  as  such  a  thing  was  pos- 
sible in  their  primitive  surroundings,  and  also  of  the  astute 
and  well  trained  diplomat. 

"He  would  make  a  fine  secret  service  man,"  Crossdale 
thought  to  himself,  "and  I  dare  say  he  is  one." 

Over  the  chimney  piece  in  the  tap-room  of  the  little  low- 
ceiled,  black-raftered  inn,  hung  a  chromo,  with  a  frame 
braided  in  the  Karmanian  colors.  On  the  night  of  their 
arrival  Crossdale  stood  in  front  of  it  and  turned  pale.  To 
Korvan,  who  had  bent  down  to  light  his  cigarette  with  a 
coal,  the  American  asked:  "Is  that  the  Queen?" 

Korvan  rose  from  his  crouching  position  and  answered 
briefly:  "The  Princess  Mariska." 

Could  it  be  true?  There  she  was,  in  a  cheap,  multicolored 
silk  frame,  hanging  above  the  row  of  pewter  mugs  and  a 
vociferous  wooden  clock!  She  looked  out  at  him  with  her 
grave  eyes. 

"The  Queen's  sister!"  he  exclaimed  softly,  more  to  him- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  73 

self  than  to  his  companion,  and  stood  transfixed,  looking 
up  at  the  cheap  chromo.  "By  Jove! "  he  murmured,  laughing 
a  little. 

Instantly  to  his  mind  came  the  remembrance  of  his  old 
portfolio,  with  its  collection  of  treasured  letters  and  the  little 
foreign  photograph  of  an  unknown  girl.  He  could  see  it, 
with  a  smart  photographer's  name  in  gilt  at  the  bottom. 
The  little  photograph  seemed  to  have  grown,  to  have 
matured,  and  there  it  hung,  enlarged,  different,  and  yet 
startlingly  the  same.  The  pewter  mugs  and  the  native  clock 
disappeared  as  he  stared,  and  his  collection  of  pipes  and 
the  college  man's  souvenirs  took  the  place  of  the  things  on 
the  mantel-shelf. 

"If  it  is  true,"  he  mused,  "this  chap  here  must  never 
guess  for  a  moment  what  it  means  to  me.  Perhaps  it  is  only 
a  resemblance — probably  so." 

Korvan  watched  him,  and  said  with  a  slight  smile:  "You 
seem  fascinated  by  the  picture." 

"Well,"  said  the  American,  reluctantly  removing  his  eyes, 
"you  can't  blame  me.  So  that  is  the  Princess  Mariska!" 
And  he  added,  "I  don't  believe  the  Queen's  got  anything  on 
her  for  looks.  Any  photographs  of  the  Queen  about?" 

"You  won't  find  one  in  the  Kingdom,"  said  Korvan.  "It's 
against  the  law  to  display  a  picture  of  Her  Majesty.  King 
Peter  is  frightfully  jealous.  There  is  a  heavy  fine  and  danger 
of  imprisonment  if  the  law  is  infringed." 

Crossdale  turned  reluctantly  away  from  his  contemplation 
of  the  picture  above  the  mantel  shelf.  Encouraged  by  this 
personal  break  in  the  dull  day,  he  tried  to  continue  the 
subject  in  question,  but  Korvan  would  not  follow  him;  and 


74  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  officer's  phlegm  was  a  bit  too  much  for  Crossdale's 
impatience.  "Gad,"  he  said  shortly,  "if  there  is  any  legiti- 
mate subject  your  Government  permits  us  to  discuss,  let's 
get  on  to  it."  He  determined  to  wait  the  three  days  out  and 
if  Refan  Ugo  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance,  to  demand  an 
escort  back  to  Tamaresk  and  to  leave  the  Kingdom. 

Another  subject  which  appeared  to  be  taboo  was  the  work 
to  be  done  on  the  royal  state  railway.  Korvan  appeared 
to  ignore  the  reason  for  Crossdale's  coming  to  Karmania. 
The  atmosphere  created  by  the  young  man's  cut-and-dried 
choice  of  subjects  for  conversation  made  Crossdale  violent 
in  his  dislike  of  autocracy.  In  desperation  he  thought  to 
himself:  "It  wouldn't  take  much  to  make  me  cut  away  and 
join  that  old  brigand,  and  if  I  had  been  born  Karmanian 
I  would  be  a  revolutionist!" 

He  said  to  Stanislas  Korvan,  one  night  before  the  res- 
taurant door,  when  the  musicians  started  to  play:  "If  Her 
Majesty  is  going  to  live  up  to  her  poetical  promises,  she's 
got  a  long  order  outstanding." 

Nervous,  restless,  bored  and  at  the  end  of  his  patience,  he 
broke  loose  during  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day.  "See 
here,  old  top,"  he  said  to  his  companion,  "I  have  found  out 
where  the  present  overseer  of  the  railway  and  his  staff  hang 
out.  If  you  want  to  stay  here  and  sample  reka,  do,  but  I 
am  going  to  light  out  for  the  railroad  yards  and  Baumgar- 
ten's  tunnel.  I  want  to  see  the  Cye  part  of  the  operations." 

They  were  coming  out  of  the  inn  door  together,  and  as 
they  walked  down  the  little  path  from  the  terrace  of  the 
restaurant  to  the  high  road,  Crossdale  heard  a  delicious 


THE  QUEEN    OF     KARMANIA  75 

ringing,  like  the  music  of  old-time  sleigh-bells,  and  Korvan 
put  his  hand  on  Crossdale's  arm. 

"Look,"  he  said,  pointing  toward  the  forest  and  speaking 
in  a  tone  of  greater  frankness  than  before,  "over  there, 
about  two  hours'  drive,  is  the  Queen's  hunting-box,  Las 
Restaurus,  the  Rest  House." 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  Crossdale.  "Glad  to  know  there 
is  something  within  any  distance.  Now  that  you  seem  free 
to  mention  anything  so  definite  as  a  house,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
about  it.  So  the  Queen  hunts,  does  she,  and  keeps  a  hunt- 
ing-box, as  well  as  writes  verse  and  misleading  songs?  What 
does  she  hunt?" 

Here  Crossdale  saw  his  luggage  being  carried  out  of  the 
inn  and  Jeff  Robinson,  awake  at  last  and  dressed  for  travel, 
came  out,  following  the  inn  servants.  "It  is  growing  late," 
said  Stanislas  Korvan.  "Tonight  we  sleep  at  Las  Restaurus. 
Are  you  ready?" 

A  low  sledge  on  runners,  the  seats  covered  with  green  linen 
striped  in  white  and  scarlet,  rugs  of  fur  over  the  box  of  the 
seat — Crossdale  saw  the  most  original  vehicle  he  had  ever 
seen  in  his  life  waiting  before  the  inn  door.  The  sledge  might 
have  sprung  from  a  pumpkin  struck  by  a  wand.  It  was  an 
amazing  little  carriage.  All  the  peasant  horses  and  mules 
were  hung  with  bells;  but  the  tinkle  and  jangle  of  the  bells 
on  the  four  gray  stallions  harnessed  to  the  sledge  was  a 
particularly  musical  sound.  The  first  horse  was  mounted  by 
a  postilion,  in  myrtle  green,  with  high  boots  and  round  fur 
cap.  The  little  equipage  was  unmistakably  royal  and  belong- 
ing to  the  court  stables.  But  Crossdale  did  not  move. 

"Lieutenant  Korvan,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  have  a  feeling 


76  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

that  you  are  a  fine  chap  and  quite  all  right,  but  I  don't  ride 
in  any  sledge  in  September  into  a  wilderness,  or  follow  any 
procession  until  you  have  doped  out  to  me  in  plain  English 
where  I  am  going." 

Korvan  had  become  quite  human.  He  seemed  delighted 
to  be  starting  away.  "Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "Mr.  Crossdale, 
I  understand  perfectly,  but  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor 
everything  is  en  regie.  Things  will  be  easier  and  more  agree- 
able from  now  on.  You  are  the  guest  of  the  Prime  Minister. 
He  is  coming  tomorrow  expressly  to  meet  you  and  in  two 
hours  we  will  be  in  the  hunting  lodge  of  Her  Majesty." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  the  American.  "It  sounds  ripping, 
but  I  am  not  accustomed  to  being  a  royal  guest  or  to  inter- 
views with  Prime  Ministers.  What  the  deuce  does  he  want 
to  meet  me  for  with  all  this  ceremony?"  They  were  walk- 
ing together  down  to  the  sledge. 

"Why,"  returned  Korvan,  "all  the  hopes  of  Karmania 
are  centered  on  you  just  now,  Mr.  Crossdale.  The  Royal 
State  Railroad,  you  know,  is  in  your  hands."  He  smiled 
affably. 

Crossdale  felt  that  the  ban  over  him  was  lifted  and  as 
they  took  their  seats  in  the  treja  and  his  luggage  was  put  in 
and  Jefferson  Robinson  climbed  sulkily  onto  the  box  next 
to  the  Caucasian  driver,  Korvan  continued: 

"Her  Majesty  has  been  in  Paris,  and  has  just  returned  to 
Karmania  and  for  several  days,  with  her  sister,  the  Princess 
Mariska,  she  has  been  en  villiagature  at  the  lodge.  That  is 
why  we  have  been  obliged  to  hang  out  here.  The  formali- 
ties are  strict  in  Karmania,  but  the  royal  party  is  on  its  way 
to  the  capital  by  the  plains  and  Pratz  Zenoe." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  77 

As  they  started,  to  the  chorus  of  bells,  Crossdale  said: 
"I  came  very  near  meeting  the  Queen  of  Karmania  not  long 
ago." 

Korvan  lifted  his  eyebrows,  but  did  not  show  any  great 
surprise.  "In  Paris?  I  dare  say." 

"I  couldn't  really  tell  you  the  name  of  the  place,  but  we 
missed  each  other  by  the  merest  chance." 

They  glided  and  slipped  over  the  pine-covered  roads, 
velvet-smooth  under  the  sledge  runners.  Their  route  led 
immediately  into  the  unspoiled,  unharvested  forests  of  the 
ancient  mountain  sides.  Purple-trunked  trees,  pink  cedars, 
rose  on  all  sides,  thick  and  close.  The  scent  of  spice  and 
balm  hung  heavy  on  the  air,  and  it  grew  rapidly  very  cold. 

After  a  drive  of  more  than  two  hours,  without  any  warn- 
ing the  sledge  ran  suddenly  into  a  wide  clearing  in  the  pines 
and  the  driver  swung  up  before  the  lighted  doorway  of  a  low 
stucco  country  house,  red-roofed,  with  bright  curtains  before 
the  windows,  through  which  the  warm  light  shone.  The 
house  had  a  fine  air  of  elegance  and  comfort  and  glowed 
with  welcome  to  the  stranger.  The  American  felt  for  the 
first  time  that  there  was  a  possibility  that  the  promises  of  the 
Queen's  folk  song  might  be  fulfilled. 

If  the  photograph  he  had  seen  over  the  inn  chimney  were 
one  and  the  same  with  the  little  picture  at  home,  anything 
might  be  possible.  The  bells  had  told  their  approach;  lined 
up  on  the  porch  a  row  of  men  servants,  in  myrtle  green 
liveries,  with  high  soft  boots  and  silver  chains  round  their 
necks,  waited  stiffly  for  the  treja's  arrival. 

As  Crossdale  followed  Korvan  across  the  red-tiled  terrace 
to  the  lodge  door,  three  Russian  wolfhounds,  thin,  gray, 


78  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

long-nosed  and  long-haired,  sprang  toward  him  in  a  splendid 
greeting. 

"Hallo!"  exclaimed  Crossdale  enthusiastically.  "That's 
good — dogs!  And  friendly  dogs !"  He  glanced  approvingly 
at  the  servants,  serious-faced,  two  of  them  with  long  gray 
beards.  "Dogs  and  old  servants,"  he  thought,  "that  is 
a  first  rate  beginning." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HE  LEARNS  THAT  HE  HAS  FALLEN  IN  LOVE  WITH  A  MERE 
WOMAN,   WITH   NO    HISTORY   WORTH   RECALLING 

As  he  went  in  from  the  cold  of  the  open,  the  luxury  and 
the  gay  coloring  of  the  living  room  dazzled  his  eyes.  Across 
a  six-foot  red-brick  chimney  burned  a  fire  of  great  logs, 
filling  the  room  with  resinous  sweetness.  Rugs  of  boar  and 
bear  skin  covered  the  floor.  The  Queen's  colors — white, 
myrtle-green  and  scarlet — dominated  in  the  decorations. 
Glowing,  harmonious,  the  room  welcomed  the  traveler  with 
an  oriental  exuberance. 

There  were  three  of  the  Russian  wolfhounds — Bela, 
Tristan  and  Griffen,  and  the  female  Bela,  crying  and  whin- 
ing like  a  human  thing,  sprang  on  Crossdale,  resting  her 
forepaws  on  his  chest  to  lick  his  face.  She  seemed  as  though 
she  greeted  her  master  in  Crossdale.  Korvan  was  apparently 
delighted  with  the  dogs'  welcome  of  the  guest. 

"I  assure  you  I  have  never  seen  them  like  this  with  any 
one  before,  except  their  master,"  he  cried. 

Crossdale  wound  his  hand  in  the  collar  of  the  female. 

"Prince  John  bred  and  trained  them  and  they  have  never 
forgotten  him." 

As  the  travelers  gave  up  their  furs  to  the  footman,  Korvan 
looked  about  the  living  room  as  though  he  loved  it.  "This," 
he  said,  "is  Her  Majesty's  favorite  place,  but  in  point  of 


80  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

fact  it  is  Prince  John's  creation.  He  is  a  famous  wolf 
hunter  and  he  built  this  lodge  for  himself.  It  seems  only 
yesterday  that  he  left  it.  What  rooms  have  you  prepared 
for  his  Excellency?"  And  as  the  steward  replied,  Korvan's 
face  illumined.  "Splendid!  They  have  given  you  the 
Prince's  own  suite.  No  one  has  occupied  them  for  a  long 
time."  He  put  his  hand  on  Crossdale's  arm.  "I  believe 
special  good  luck  is  coming  to  you,  Crossdale.  We  have 
a  proverb — 'To  those  who  are  fated  to  climb  high  all  steps 
are  golden.' " 

They  followed  the  chief  steward  down  a  long  corridor 
until  a  thick-set  cedar  door  was  pushed  open  into  an  apart- 
ment bright  as  a  painted  cedar  box  and  full  of  comfortable, 
luxurious  things.  Crackling  coals  of  pine  shot  yellow  sparks 
from  a  freshly  lighted  fire,  and  across  the  deepset  windows 
green  curtains,  with  the  Queen's  arms  in  white  and  scarlet, 
were  jealously  drawn.  Softly  lit  by  candles  in  iron  candle- 
sticks, the  room  spoke  delightfully  to  the  traveler  of  the 
rebel  prince's  personality.  Welcome,  it  seemed  to  say, 
welcome,  Stephen  Crossdale  of  San  Francisco!  A  democrat 
welcomes  you! 

The  luxury  of  the  apartment  seemed  unfitting  for  a  com- 
monplace young  man.  His  own  bungalow  had  impressed  him 
as  lacking  in  simplicity,  but  this  surpassed  anything  he  had 
ever  imagined.  The  furniture  was  heavy  and  inlaid,  the 
bed  piled  with  eiderdown  covers  in  green  silk;  and  in  the 
adjoining  room  a  steaming  bath  sunk  into  the  floor,  a  Turkish 
robe  and  slippers,  waited,  ready  and  inviting. 

When  the  servants  had  left  him,  he  turned  to  express  his 
appreciation  to  Korvan,  but  found  himself  alone,  save  for 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  81 

his  own  servant.  At  the  sight  of  Jeff,  Crossdale  laughed 
aloud.  The  negro  seemed  incongruous  beyond  words  in  the 
oriental  richness  of  the  surroundings.  Master  and  man  stared 
at  each  other,  as  though  across  a  dream.  But  Jeff  had  been 
bottled  up  too  long;  he  had  scarcely  exchanged  a  word  with 
his  master  for  days.  Now,  with  one  hand  at  the  side  of  his 
mouth,  he  dropped  his  voice  to  a  sepulchral  tone: 

"Doan  like  it,  Boss.  It's  sure  some  fake  house.  I  bet 
yo'  it  an't  de  reel  t'ing." 

"Nonsense!  Don't  ever  say  the  word  'civilization'  to  me 
again!" 

"And,  Boss,"  whispered  the  negro,  chuckling  inimitably, 
as  he  opened  the  valises  and  began  to  lay  out  his  master's 
clothes,  "if  you  say  de  wode  'boss'  to  me  'fo'  ma  laigs  thaw 
out  I'll  bust.  I  nebber  seen  a  boss  less'n  a  mule  I  could 
stay  on  for  mo'  'n  mile'n  my  life,  anyhow!  I  ain't  bin 
raised  to  boss  ridin',  Boss,  'n  to  think  I'se  been  nailed  to  a 
natural  born  Garden  of  Eden  boss  fer  days  'n  nights  gets  me." 

"That's  enough,  Robinson.  And  I  want  you  to  keep  your 
mouth  shut  here,  and  your  eyes  open — understand?" 

The  man  was  as  trustworthy  as  the  sun  itself.  He  would 
have  laid  his  life  down  for  Crossdale. 

"Any  tomfoolery  on  your  part  might  cost  us  both — " 
Crossdale  caught  himself  up.  "I  don't  like  to  exaggerate," 
he  said,  "it  isn't  my  way.  Shut  up — that's  all." 

In  the  hunting  room  an  hour  later,  Korvan  and  Cross- 
dale,  opposite  each  other  at  the  far  ends  of  the  six-foot  table, 
tasted  the  bounty  of  the  Queen.  A  whole  deer  or  a  boar  was 
often  served  at  this  board  at  hunt  dinners.  The  superb 
pewter  service,  a  hundred  years  old,  bright  as  silver,  was 


82  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

marked  by  the  Queen's  crest.  They  were  served  by  six 
valets  in  myrtle  green  and  snowy  white  muslin  trousers,  and 
russet  boots  with  soles  soft  as  silk. 

Crossdale  fed  the  dogs  from  his  hand,  and  whenever  he 
moved  he  was  conscious  of  the  soft,  firm  body  of  one  of  these 
silent  friends.  Griffen  was  the  father,  solemn  as  a  wolf,  a 
tragic  dog,  sad-faced,  with  questions  in  his  eyes;  eternally  he 
seemed  asking  for  the  whereabouts  of  his  beloved  master. 
But  Bela  and  Tristan  were  young  dogs  and  full  of  the  hope- 
fulness of  life  and  of  faith  in  the  new  friend.  As  Crossdale 
glanced  up  at  the  trophies  of  the  chase  upon  the  wall,  boar 
heads,  stags'  heads,  one  great  gray  wolf's  head  caught  his 
attention. 

"Yes,"  nodded  his  companion,  "wolves — packs  of  them. 
We  shoot  them  all  the  year  round  in  these  forests.  I  dare 
say  his  Excellency  will  arrange  a  wolf  hunt  for  you  before 
you  cross  the  mountain  to  Savia." 

Savory  food,  curiously  spiced,  wine  like  blood  and  amber 
in  the  pewter  cups,  warmed  their  veins,  served  to  release 
Korvan's  tongue.  Tradition,  instructions  were  forgotten  and 
before  the  evening  ended  over  the  coffee  and  liqueurs,  Cross- 
dale  found  that  he  was  listening  to  a  real  man. 

"You  talked  with  Prince  John  Sarvanarof  on  the  boat, 
Crossdale,  didn't  you?"  Korvan  began  confidentially.  "I 
dare  say  that  Refan  Ugo  filled  you  up  with  a  lot  of  lies 
later,  about  the  Prince?" 

Crossdale  shrugged.  "Lies?"  he  repeated.  "How  the 
devil  should  I  know?  I  am  new  to  Karmania." 

"Ugo  hated  the  Prime  Minister,  and  he  was  cordially 
hated  in  return  by  the  Prince." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  83 

"That  is  quite  natural — opposite  parties." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Korvan  thoughtfully.  "It  would  be 
a  very  hard  thing  to  hate  Prince  John  unless  you  had  a  per- 
sonal reason."  And  he  added,  "Refan  Ugo  was  the  chap 
who  betrayed  him,  so  you  understand  the  situation  between 
those  two,  don't  you?" 

Crossdale  laughed.  Between  the  two  men  on  the  floor 
lay  the  wolfhounds  in  graceful  and  picturesque  attitudes; 
Bela's  head  was  across  Crossdale's  feet. 

"Yes,  I  can  understand  very  well,"  he  said.  "I  fancy 
that  each  man  of  them  is  waiting  to  get  the  other  one's  pelt, 
but  for  my  part  I  find  your  exile  a  thoroughly  good  sort." 

"Ah!"  murmured  Korvan,  with  unmistakable  warmth, 
and  then  caught  himself  up.  "He  is  the  greatest  Karmanian 
since  the  days  of  Caesar's  General,  and  he  would  have  suc- 
ceeded in  his  revolution  if  it  had  not  been  for  one  weak 
joint  in  his  armor." 

"Too  great  ambition,  I  reckon,"  said  Crossdale.  "That's 
where  they  all  collapse." 

But  Korvan  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  dropping  his 
voice,  although  there  was  no  one  there  but  the  dogs  to  hear, 
said:  "Prince  John  loved  the  Queen." 

Crossdale  listened.  The  bell  of  romance  was  beginning 
to  ring. 

"Well,  he  is  a  very  dramatic  personality  altogether,  isn't 
he?"  said  the  American. 

Korvan  continued:  "King  Peter  trusted  him  as  he  trusted 
no  one  in  the  world.  They  are  brothers,  you  know.  It  is 
Tristan  and  Isolde  all  over  again.  The  Queen  and  her 
sister  were  daughters  of  a  Karmanian  brigand,  and  the  King 


84  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

fell  in  love  with  Karmen  Mara  when  she  was  a  child.  He 
saw  her  dancing  at  one  of  the  village  festivities  and  he  went 
mad  about  her.  He  sent  both  girls  to  England  to  be  edu- 
cated. Prince  John  went  over  to  escort  the  Princesses  back 
to  court  when  Karmen  Mara  was  sixteen.  Of  course  he  fell 
in  love  with  her  and  did  his  best  to  persuade  her  to  elope 
with  him — and  I  dare  say  she  would  have  done  so" —  Kor- 
van  spoke  harshly  and  with  scant  respect — "she  is  capricious 
and  impulsive  but  the  Princess  Mariska  saved  the  situa- 
tion." 

Crossdale  mused,  thinking  of  his  picture.  "Well,  that 
must  have  been  at  least  ten  or  twelve  years  ago." 

"Yes,"  said  Korvan.  "And  when  she  came  back  King 
Peter  married  her.  He  is  twenty-five  years  older  than  the 
Queen." 

In  order  to  change  the  subject,  realizing  perhaps  he  had 
said  too  much,  Korvan  added:  "You  will  be  able  to  com- 
pare the  two  Prime  Ministers  for  yourself  tomorrow." 

Crossdale  rose  indolently  and  stretching  out  his  arms 
said:  "Well,  tonight  I  am  going  to  compare  that  glorious 
bed  of  Prince  John's  with  the  bag  of  pebbles  at  the  Cye 
inn.  I  feel  as  though  I  should  never  wake  up  again  if  I  once 
fell  into  a  good  sound  sleep." 

Standing  there,  the  dogs  rising  with  him,  stretching  out, 
too,  long  and  lazily,  yawning  with  their  great  wolvish  jaws, 
the  American,  as  though  it  were  a  last  thought,  asked  indif- 
ferently: "And  who  is  the  Princess  Mariska  in  love  with?" 

Korvan,  bending  down  to  stroke  Griffen,  turned  purple 
red.  Crossdale,  in  order  not  to  display  too  great  interest  in 
the  Princess,  had  his  eyes  on  the  wolf's  head  above  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  85 

chimney  piece.  He  did  not  see  his  companion's  changing 
color. 

"The  Princess  Mariska  is  a  very  different  story.  She  is 
not  a  Queen,  not  even  royal — nothing  but  a  mere  woman." 

Korvan  started  toward  the  door,  followed  by  the  dogs. 

"A  mere  woman?"  laughed  Crossdale  lightly.  "Happy 
princess,  with  no  history." 

Prince  John's  bed  was  all  it  promised  and  Crossdale,  under 
the  light,  warm  covers,  watched  the  dying  fire,  dosing  before 
he  fell  into  a  profound  sleep.  So  he  would  have  slept  till 
morning,  but  a  sound  at  the  open  window,  wide  to  the  night, 
waked  him  suddenly;  and  he  was  out  of  bed,  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  to  receive  an  agile  figure  which  crept  in  the 
moonlight  over  the  window-sill  into  the  room. 

Although  roused  from  heavy  sleep,  Crossdale  was 
thoroughly  alive.  The  dog,  who  had  been  sleeping  before 
the  fire,  rose  leisurely  with  no  sound  of  protest,  and  stood 
moving  his  great  tail  slowly  to  and  fro,  stretching  out  his 
paws  as  though  midnight  messengers  were  commonplace 
occurrences.  But  Crossdale  did  not  share  his  point  of 
view.  He  saw  before  him  a  native  servant,  so  like  the  others 
that  he  could  not  have  distinguished  him.  The  man  made  a 
profound  salutation  and  held  out  to  Crossdale  a  letter. 

Looking  quietly  into  the  fellow's  eyes  Crossdale  said 
quickly,  in  English:  "You  have  barked  up  the  wrong  tree, 
Ali  Baba!  You  have  brought  your  special  delivery  to  the 
wrong  house!" 

Like  a  bob  cat,  whose  habits  Crossdale  knew  so  well,  he 
sprang  at  the  man,  seized  him  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and 


86  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

around  the  waist,  picked  him  up  like  a  skein  of  wool,  pitched 
him  out  of  the  window  and  heard  him  fall  heavily  on  the 
ground  without. 

Then  he  locked  the  window  securely  and  drew  the  cur- 
tains. On  the  floor,  with  Bela  standing  guard  over  it,  was  the 
note  he  had  brought  to  Crossdale.  For  half  a  second  the 
young  man  thought:  "Perhaps  it  is  from  the  Queen!"  He 
had  always  a  lurking  hope  that  she  might  in  some  way  or 
other  have  heard  of  the  adventure.  •  He  looked  down  at  the 
little  slip  of  paper  close  to  the  paw  of  the  wolfhound. 

"Put  it  in  the  fire  for  me,  Bela,  or  eat  it!  I  am  inclined 
to  think  it  belongs  to  your  former  master." 

But  he  picked  the  letter  up,  turned  it  over  thoughtfully. 
It  was  a  thick  envelope,  without  any  superscription  whatso- 
ever.   Nevertheless,  he  opened  it.    It  ran: 
"My  dear  Mr.  Crossdale: 

"I  forgive  you  for  your  rescue  of  the  Queen,  and  I  under- 
stand your  gallantry,  and  like  you  none  the  less  for  it. 

"You  are  a  clever  young  man,  and  this  will  make  you 
persona  grata  in  the  kingdom.  In  this  way  you  will  be 
able  to  approach  Her  Majesty.  Lucky  Crossdale!  In  this 
envelope  you  will  find  a  letter  to  the  Queen  of  Karmania, 
unaddressed  for  safety's  sake.  For  the  good  -of  the  country 
and  for  her  own  good  I  ask  you  to  deliver  this  letter  in  per- 
son to  the  Queen,  if  you  can  do  so. 

"You  are  not  a  good  reader  of  the  times  if  you  think  that 
because  a  few  of  my  men  have  been  taken  prisoner  that  the 
republican  cause  is  lost. 

"In  Las  Restaurus,  where  this  will  be  brought  to  you, 
you  will  be  occupying  my  rooms.  You  will  see  by  this  how 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  87 

well  I  know  everything  that  is  happening  to  you,  Mr. 
Stephen  Crossdale.  Think  of  me  in  Jehanospelz;  I  shall 
think  of  you.  Build  your  tunnel  well;  remain  true  to  your 
democratic  principles.  We  are  brothers;  we  have  a  com- 
mon ideal,  and  when  the  railroad  runs  to  Roda  we  will  be 
with  you  to  celebrate  the  occasion.  When  you  open  the 
tunnel  from  Cye  to  the  capital,  we  will  meet.  Until  then: 
Viva  las  Raypublikos  Jehanos!" 

Crossdale  turned  the  letter  over,  looked  at  it,  then  went 
and  laid  it  on  the  ashes  of  the  fire,  staring  down  at  it,  his 
face  suffused  with  amusement,  and  as  he  turned  to  go  back 
to  bed  he  said  confidentially  to  Bela:  "Well,  I  don't 
see  it,  do  you?  And  between  you  and  me,  I  don't  think 
that  letter  was  worth  a  tuppenny  stamp,  much  less  a  special 
messenger." 


CHAPTER    IX 

IF  HE  SIGNS  THE  CONTRACT  IT  WILL  NOT  BE 
FOR  THE  FUTURE  OF   KARMANIA 

He  was  awakened  by  the  crashing  and  jangling  of  bells, 
the  prolonged  huzza  with  which  he  was  growing  so  familiar, 
but  which  never  failed  to  awaken  a  certain  thrill.  He  won- 
dered if  Queen  Karmen  Mara  were  not  arriving  unexpectedly, 
then  remembered  that  the  Prime  Minister  was  due  to  meet 
him  here  on  this  day.  Bela,  who  had  spent  the  night  out- 
stretched acrose  the  hearth-rug,  sprang  on  the  bed,  ponderous 
as  a  lion.  The  young  man,  in  order  to  escape  her  morn- 
ing greetings,  tumbled  out  on  the  other  side.  He  rang  for 
Jeff,  and  a  native  servant  answered,  conveyed  the  informa- 
tion that  the  negro  could  not  be  roused  from  his  slumbers. 
This  native  had  apparently  been  some  time  in  Crossdale's 
room,  waiting  for  the  guest  to  stir,  for  his  clothes  were  laid 
out  and  breakfast  ready,  waiting  on  a  table  before  a  freshly 
lighted  fire.  The  man  salaamed,  but  made  no  answer  to 
Crossdale's  question  as  to  the  arrivals,  and  Crossdale 
smoked  peacefully  in  his  chair  before  a  steaming  samovar, 
cream  thick  as  a  glove,  strawberries  in  ice  and  wonderful 
little  hot  breads,  covered  with  savory  seeds.  Griffen  wandered 
in  and  gave  him  a  stormy  morning  greeting,  and  Crossdale 
asked  nothing  better  than  the  company  of  these  honest 
friends. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  89 

The  dogs  loved  these  rooms,  where  the  spirit  of  their 
master  lingered.  Was  their  sense  of  smell  so  abnormal  and 
keen  that  the  fact  of  Crossdale  having  been  with  Prince 
John  three  days  ago  was  perceptible  to  these  fine  canine 
nostrils?  How  could  he  explain  their  devotion? 

He  had  breakfasted  and  dressed  when  a  message  was 
brought  him  that  the  Prince  would  receive  him  in  the  living 
room. 

"Not  being  in  France,"  he  thought,  "I  can't  put  on  a 
dress  suit  in  the  gray  dawn  to  meet  an  official,  and  not  being 
in  England  I  can't  wear  a  silk  hat  and  a  frock  coat.  How 
does  one  dress  to  meet  Prime  Ministers  and  Kings?" 

He  compromised  on  a  tweed  suit  and  a  dark  red  tie,  hastily 
glanced  in  one  of  the  mirrors,  went  along  cheerily,  followed 
by  the  three  greyhounds,  wondering  why  the  dickens  Korvan 
did  not  turn  up  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and  instruct  him 
what  to  call  this  Johnny.  As  he  came  into  the  living  room 
he  saw  before  a  table  spread  for  breakfast  a  group  of  men 
in  uniform  around  the  shining  samovar,  smoking. 

They  sprang  up  as  Crossdale  entered.  The  central  figure, 
a  bearded  soldier,  in  a  simple  uniform  with  no  decorations 
save  the  French  Legion  of  Honor,  rose  slowly  with  great 
dignity  and  grace.  This  was  Prince  Karol  Sarvanarof.  Of 
certain  avoirdupois,  with  small  hands  and  small  feet,  keen 
eager  face,  blue  eyes  deeply  set  under  bushy  brows;  nose  so 
slavic  as  to  suggest  the  Hebrew,  thick  gray  hair  and  closely 
trimmed,  a  pointed  gray  beard;  he  had  race,  distinction. 
Two  young  men,  in  uniforms  more  gaudy  than  their  chief's, 
the  sons  of  the  King,  were  the  other  members  of  the  party, 
with  Lieutenant  Korvan. 


90  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Prince  Karol  came  forward  toward  the  American  with 
extended  hand.  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Crossdale?  The 
Princes  Paul  and  Sarvan  Sarvanarof,  the  King's  sons. 
Lieutenant  Stanislas  Korvan  I  think  you  know." 

The  American,  unconscious  of  every  hand  but  that  of  the 
Prime  Minister,  found  his  grasp  honest  and  firm.  He  was 
conscious  of  being  under  keen  scrutiny.  The  Prime  Min- 
ister dismissed  the  Princes.  "Go  on,  my  children,  with 
your  breakfast.  Mr.  Crossdale  has  breakfasted  and  so 
have  I.  These  boys  are  young;  they  have  been  up  all  night, 
and  youth  must  be  served." 

The  three  young  men  resumed  their  seats  and  the  Prime 
Minister,  going  over  toward  a  writing  table  in  the  window, 
indicated  to  Crossdale  to  follow  him;  and  back  of  them, 
at  the  breakfast  table,  with  its  green  linen  cloth,  the  royal 
princes  and  Korvan  sat  before  their  dishes  piled  with  straw- 
berries like  a  fairy  feast;  it  was  a  dazzle  and  sparkle  of 
pewter. 

Crossdale  sat  down  opposite  to  the  Prime  Minister  at  the 
writing  table.  Prince  Karol  glanced  at  the  wolfhounds 
who  had  followed  Crossdale  and  who  stood  one  on  either  side 
of  him. 

"You  give  us  guarantees  of  good  faith  and  a  sympathetic 
personality,  Mr.  Crossdale.  The  dogs  have  made  friends 
with  you  already."  The  Prime  Minister  raised  his  brows, 
half  questioning,  half  humorous. 

"You  know  how  to  treat  dogs  in  Karmania,"  said  the 
American.  "Other  places  in  the  Balkans  they  abuse  them.  I 
think  that  to  treat  animals  and  inferiors  well  is  a  mark  of 
breeding  and  civilization." 


THE    QUEEN    OF  KARMANIA  91 

Prince  Karol  was  studying  the  American  engineer  as  well 
as  he  might.  The  diplomat,  politician  and  subtle  Slav,  had 
the  advantage  over  the  simpler  American.  Prince  John's 
wolfhounds  appeared  to  be  guarding  Crossdale  as  he  sat 
before  the  Prime  Minister,  in  a  deep  green  leather  chair. 
Prince  Karol  appeared  to  approve  Crossdale's  lean,  wiry 
figure,  his  capable  strong  hands,  slender  and  sun-browned, 
clean-shaven,  expressive  face,  with  its  honest  eyes  under 
level  brows,  his  boyish  forehead,  with  thick  dark  hair 
brushed  straightly  back.  He  was  agreeable;  he  was  mag- 
netic, and  at  once  unpretentious  and  thoroughly  well  bred. 

The  Prince  returned:  "Then  we  are  not  civilized  in  Kar- 
mania — we  treat  our  superiors  with  respect,  our  equals  with 
understanding,  and  ignore  the  rest.  For  us  inferiors  and 
animals  do  not  exist." 

From  the  table  behind  them  came  the  gay  voices  of  the 
young  Princes,  laughing  over  their  breakfast  with  Stanislas 
Korvan.  One  of  the  hounds  left  Crossdale's  side  and  joined 
the  breakfast  group  and  Prince  Sarvan,  fondling  him,  fed 
him  with  pieces  of  buttered  toast. 

"Before  we  go  any  further,"  said  the  Prime  Minister, 
"I  want  to  apologize  to  you  for  the  treatment  your  servant 
received  in  Tamaresk." 

"Good!"  thought  Crossdale  to  himself.  "He  is  beginning 
at  the  small  end.  I  wonder  what  he  will  say  when  he  comes 
to  the  royal  story?" 

"Karmania  is  somewhat  barbaric  still,"  said  the  Prime 
Minister.  "People  are  passionate,  impulsive,  and  I  would 
like  to  make  it  clear  to  this  body  servant  of  yours  that  he 
must  not  make  any  attack  upon  the  people.  It  would  be 


92  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

difficult  to  protect  him,  Mr.  Crossdale— and,  possibly,  to 
protect  you." 

Stephen  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  thrust  his  hands  in  his 
pockets.  Nothing  could  have  surprised  him  more  than  this 
curious  opening  of  a  conversation.  He  felt  like  retorting: 
"But  why  Tamaresk?  Why  the  devil  not  Jehanospelz? 
Why,  in  short,  any  apology  to  a  chap  who  has  nearly  lost 
his  life  while  entering  the  country  in  perfectly  good  faith?" 

Prince  Karol  called  Stanislas  Korvan  over  to  him.  "Ask 
them  to  send  Mr.  Crossdale's  servant  in  here.  I  like  Ameri- 
can negroes,"  continued  the  Prince.  "They  make  such 
faithful  servants." 

"You  know  them?" 

"I  have  been  all  over  the  United  States,"  said  Karol 
Sarvanarof. 

"Wonderful  people!"  thought  Crossdale.  "Here  this 
chap  sits  and  looks  like  Bluebeard,  and  I  dare  say  he  has 
sampled  all  of  the  delights  of  our  big  cities,  like  any  com- 
monplace middle  aged  man." 

"I'll  answer  for  my  man,"  he  said  quietly.  "He  is  a  first- 
rate  fellow.  He  was  a  Pullman  car  porter  originally,  if  you 
know  what  that  means;  and  before  he  went  on  that  job  he 
was  a  prize  fighter;  he  did  a  little  work  in  the  ring." 

Crossdale  said  this  with  satisfaction  and  a  smile  which 
did  not  quite  declare  itself.  He  was  thinking  of  Jeff  sleep- 
ing his  honest  sleep,  which  had  overlapped  his  duties,  but  he 
was  entirely  unprepared  for  the  apparition  that  came  in 
with  Korvan,  which  he  never  forgot  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Jefferson  Robinson  was  in  spotless  white  linen  trousers, 
full  to  the  knees;  black  broadcloth  jacket,  embroidered  in 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  93 

green;  high  black  boots;  a  black  silk  scarf  around  his  waist 
with  one  end  falling  to  the  knee,  and  a  red  tarbush.  Shades 
of  Pullman  porters!  Figures  of  capable  American  indepen- 
dent negroes!  The  old  impression  was  forever  lost  in  that 
which  stood  before  Crossdale's  startled  eyes.  He  turned 
away  to  hide  his  amusement  from  the  man,  who  looked 
mild  and  docile,  sheepish.  But  he  was  frankly  enamoured 
with  his  masquerade. 

Karol  Sarvanarof  nodded  to  him.  "Is  this  your  prize 
fighter?"  he  said  to  Crossdale.  And  before  Crossdale  could 
answer:  "We  have  put  your  man  in  what  will  be  your  house 
livery  while  you  are  in  Karmania,  Mr.  Crossdale."  And 
turning  swiftly  to  the  negro,  the  Prime  Minister  said:  "You 
are  a  good  chap.  I've  heard  about  you  from  Captain  Ugo. 
It  was  very  devoted  of  you  to  follow  your  master  to  Kar- 
mania, but  you  must  be  careful  here,  my  good  man.  These 
people  are  very  hot  blooded.  Don't  be  too  quick  to  take 
offence." 

Jefferson  Robinson  came  out  of  his  daze.  Sarvanarof  spoke 
perfect  English — the  English  of  Oxford  and  of  civilized 
cosmopolitans.  He  was  perfectly  intelligible  to  the  negro, 
who  recognized  the  master  and  the  gentleman  in  him.  He 
made  an  expressive  gesture  that  went  by  way  of  salute,  and 
like  all  the  people  of  his  irrepressible  race  when  given  a 
chance  to  speak,  spoke. 

"  'Scuse  me,  Boss,"  he  said,  "ah've  traveled  from  Pitts- 
burgh to  New  York  so  many  times  dat  ah  reckon  if  you 
added  up  de  miles  'twould  be  a  couple  tours  'round  de 
world.  Ah  ain'  afraid  of  anybody,  nowhere,  an'  when  ah 
was  a  Pullman  porter  on  de  Limited,  quite  a  few  times  ah 


94  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

had  articles  stolen  from  my  berths,  an'  one  time,  boss — " 
he  dropped  his  voice. 

Both  of  the  young  Princes  and  Stanislas  Korvan  had 
paused  in  their  breakfast  to  listen  to  this  monologue,  deliv- 
ered in  the  rich  dialect  of  the  unspoiled  American  black. 
The  Prime  Minister  scarcely  heard  him.  But  he  delighted 
his  master. 

"An'  one  time,  boss,  ah  came  into  a  stateroom  an'  foun'  a 
crook  goin'  through  de  pockets  of  my  passenger,  who  was 
asleep  in  his  berth.  Ah  tell  you  ah  never  tol'  anybody  what 
ah  did  to  dat  man,  but  ah  don'  min'  tellin'  you.  'Twas  at 
de  en'  of  de  train,  de  las'  stateroom,  an'  ah  picked  him  up 
by  de  seat  of  his  pants,  as  ah  came  in  behin'  on  him,  an' 
boss,  ah  opened  de  door  of  the  car  and  ah  dropped  him  off 
de  train." 

Jeff  stopped  with  his  sepulchral  confession,  and  controlled 
the  darky  gurgle  of  laughter  that  began  to  break  out  in  his 
throat.  Prince  Karol  vouchsafed  neither  encomium  nor 
reproof.  He  said  curtly:  "I  think  your  man  would  make  an 
excellent  executioner." 

His  master  nodded.  "All  right,  Jeff,  that'll  do."  And  Jeff 
wheeled  and  got  out  of  the  room  with  more  or  less  alacrity. 

"Now,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  "these  young  people 
have  finished  their  breakfast."  They  had  done  so  and  after 
profoundly  saluting  their  chief,  the  three  young  men 
wandered  out  toward  the  back  of  the  room  and  entered  a 
sun  parlor,  built  into  a  clearing  of  the  pines. 

The  Prime  Minister  and  Crossdale  found  themselves 
alone.  On  the  table  before  which  they  sat  lay  maps  and 
papers  by  the  inkstand  and  the  pens,  and  Crossdale  observed 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  95 

forms  and  contracts,  prepared  evidently  for  his  signature. 

"Mr.  Crossdale,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  "you  are  the 
inmate  of  a  small  but  powerful  kingdom.  We  are  black 
with  traditions  in  Karmania,  and  fixed  as  the  rocks  in  our 
customs.  Our  little  monarchy  is  unknown  to  your  great 
republic.  We  have  lately  had  a  revolution  and  a  civil  war, 
and  the  traitors  are  still  at  work,  subtly  and  in  secret. 
Now  I  have  said  all  that  I  intend  to  until  you  have  answered 
my  little  inquisition.  What  happened  to  you  from  the  time 
you  left  the  Grand  Hotel  at  Tamaresk  until  you  were 
picked  up  by  our  servants  on  the  plain?"  Under  the  Prime 
Minister's  steady  gaze  the  young  man's  eyelids  did  not 
flicker. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  your  Excellency."  He  stopped, 
smiling. 

"But  you  will  tell  us — give  a  full  and  detailed  story,  I 
hope?" 

"Short  and  to  the  point,  your  Excellency.  I  think 
that  the  wine  we  drank  at  the  last  resting  house  must 
have  been  doped — drugged,"  he  amended. 

"Ah!"  The  Prime  Minister  watched  him  intently. 

But  Crossdale  was  determined  to  play  the  straight  game 
as  far  as  possible  and  not  to  report  Jehanospelz  until  he 
was  forced  to  do  so. 

"My  man  servant  and  I  were  dragged  from  the  victoria, 
bound,  gagged,  and  left  as  you  found  us." 

The  Prime  Minister  interrupted:  "Bound  by  whom?" 

"There  may  have  been  a  hundred  or  so  of  them — soldiers, 
armed  men.  Of  course  when  they  first  came  up  I  thought 
it  was  the  caravan  of  Captain  Refan  Ugo." 


96 

"I  see!"  exclaimed  Prince  Karol.  "One  of  my  cousin's 
bandit  raids!  You  were  caught  in  it.  Your  escape  was  a 
very  lucky  one!  Not  that  he  would  have  murdered  you; 
he  would  have  had  no  reason  to  do  such  a  thing.  Prince 
John  and  his  followers  make  these  sorties,  these  brigand 
attacks,  throughout  the  country.  They  impress,  they  terrify; 
it  is  a  sort  of  guerilla  warfare.  You  understand,"  he  nodded, 
"that  those  were  the  soldiers  of  Prince  John  Sarvanarof,  the 
republican  leader,  the  exile?" 

"Indeed?"  said  Crossdale,  with  apparent  interest. 

"But,"  continued  Prince  Karol,  "you  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  our  pursuit  has  been  eminently  successful.  The  Queen's 
Guard  and  the  First  Regiment  of  Fusiliers  have  scoured  the 
country  since  the  attack  upon  you  and  Prince  John  has 
gone  into  Roumania,  and  we  have  taken  prisoner  over  a 
hundred  and  fifty  men." 

"Ah,"  thought  Crossdale,  "little  Captain  Zito  is  behind 
the  bars  today,  I'll  bet  a  shilling!  But  not  a  word  about 
the  Queen's  little  midnight  escapade.  Well,  if  that's  their 
game  I  shall  have  to  play  it!" 

Now  Karol  rang  the  bell  and  gave  orders  that  Captain 
Refan  Ugo  should  be  called.  The  officer  who  had  chaperoned 
Crossdale's  entrance  into  the  country  came  in.  He  saluted 
the  Prime  Minister  with  a  profound  salaam,  disgusting  in 
its  slavishness  to  Crossdale;  he  could  not  understand  why 
a  mere  military  salute  would  not  have  done  as  well.  This 
latter  the  American  received.  But  the  Karmanian  met 
neither  the  eyes  of  his  chief  nor  those  of  Crossdale.  Refan 
Ugo  was  in  full  dress  tenue,  a  very  brilliant  uniform. 

Before  the  Prime  Minister  spoke    Crossdale    felt    the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  97 

moment  was  an  important  one — for  the  Karmanian,  at  least. 
"You  have,  Captain  Ugo,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  in  a 
tone  which  Crossdale  had  never  heard  equalled  for  brutal 
severity,  "bungled  the  entrance  of  this  gentleman  into  the 
Kingdom  in  a  remarkable  manner.  We  designated  you  to 
receive  him  and  to  be  his  guide,  supposing  that  a  man  of 
your  experience  and  position  would  be  equal  to  the  task.  I 
need  not  rehearse  to  you  the  details  of  Mr.  Crossdale's 
journey.  They  are  too  well  known  to  you.  We  owe  him 
an  apology."  He  bowed  with  suave  graciousness  to  the 
American,  who  took  such  offence  at  his  tone  that  he  could 
hardly  look  at  him.  "But  apology  is  not  sufficient.  I  will 
say  nothing  further  to  you  now,  Ugo,  regarding  other  mat- 
ters relating  to  the  day  of  Mr.  Crossdale's  arrival" — The 
Prime  Minister  stopped;  the  pause  was  ominous.  He  glared 
at  Ugo,  who  would  have  been  withered  if  a  look  could 
wither.  Indeed,  the  big  Karmanian  seemed  crumpled  up 
and  ready  to  dissolve. 

Crossdale  had  never  been  more  uncomfortable  in  his  life. 
Could  he  speak  for  him?  Would  it  not  be  lese  majeste, 
or  something  or  other  of  that  kind? 

But  before  he  could  speak  the  Prime  Minister  settled 
Ugo's  hash  for  him.  "Consider  yourself  relieved  of  your 
duties  in  the  cabinet  of  the  Prime  Minister.  You  may  re- 
join your  regiment.  Try  to  retrieve  something  of  the 
prestige  you  have  so  lost,  Captain  Ugo.  You  may  go." 

The  officer  turned  perfectly  livid.  His  consternation  made 
it  evident  to  the  American  that  this  was  not  a  ruse  on  the 
part  of  Prince  Karol  in  order  to  impress  the  stranger.  What- 
ever the  chief's  reasons  may  have  been,  he  was  acting  on 


98  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

impulse.  Crossdale  understood  that  he  had  been  repri- 
manded not  only  for  the  misadventure  of  the  engineer,  but 
for  the  danger  to  the  Queen. 

Ugo,  white  as  the  dead,  saluted,  clicking  his  heels 
together,  touching  his  forehead  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
bowed  profoundly  and  went  out  of  the  room.  Prince  Karol 
turned  to  Crossdale  and  said  quickly:  "I  could  not  give  you 
any  better  proof  of  our  sincerity  and  our  good  will  toward 
you,  Mr.  Crossdale.  We  consider  that  you  have  been  most 
badly  treated  since  your  entrance  into  the  Kingdom.  We 
extend  to  you  all  the  apologies  possible  and  I  hope  that  from 
now  on  you  will  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  our 
hospitality." 

Instead  of  replying  directly  to  this,  the  young  man  said: 
"Captain  Refan  Ugo  will  hate  me,  all  right." 

"The  likes  and  hates  of  inferiors,  Mr.  Crossdale,  should 
be  indifferent  to  us.  Now,"  he  continued,  "here  are  your  con- 
tracts. I  think  they  appealed  to  you  or  you  would  not  be 
here." 

"Quite  right,  Prince  Karol." 

"The  Western  Transportation  Company  is  to  build  us  our 
road  from  the  Savian  side  of  the  tunnel  through  the  Kar- 
manians  to  the  Danube.  You  are  to  use  native  labor.  You 
are  to  use  the  materials  already  in  the  country,  which  have 
been  furnished  us  by  the  United  States  and  England. 
Moreover,  any  new  materials  you  may  judge  necessary,  you 
are  to  import  from  whatever  source  you  see  fit,  at  our 
expense.  Our  guarantees  are  already  in  the  hands  of  the 
Western  Transportation  Company  in  San  Francisco,  and  we 
will  meet  our  other  financial  obligations  in  the  course  of  the 
construction  of  the  road  with  your  representatives." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  99 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  financial  transactions.  My 
part  is  dynamite,  electricity,  steel  and  iron  and  men.  What 
are  your  native  laborers  like?" 

"They  are  the  very  best  workmen  possible,"  said  the 
Prime  Minister.  "They  are  frugal,  eager,  childlike,  indus- 
trious and  gentle.  Now,  this  is  the  proposition  I  am  going 
to  make  to  you:  You  are  quite  free  to  return  from  here,  as 
Ugo  told  you.  We  will  accompany  you  to  Tamaresk  and 
put  you  on  the  boat  for  Austria,  if  you  like.  This  railroad 
scheme,  Mr.  Crossdale,  was  mine  ten  years  ago.  I  am 
responsible  for  it.  I  am  going  to  see  it  through,  and  if  you 
return  and  leave  us  in  the  lurch,  some  French  engineer  or 
some  Englishman  will  take  your  place.  But  if  you  accept 
and  go  on  with  the  building  of  the  road,  you  will  not  leave 
Karmania  until  your  job  is  done." 

Crossdale  started,  looking  up  at  him  attentively. 

"During  this  time  you  will  see  no  one.  You  will  hold  no 
communication  with  the  outside  world  either  by  letter  or 
telegram  unless  your  communications  are  O.  K.'d  by  me." 

The  American  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  out  loud. 
"Why,  what  do  you  take  me  for?" 

The  face  of  his  companion  was  unmoved.  He  lit  a  fresh 
cigarette,  drank  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a  single  draught,  sat 
back  and  waited.  Stephen  Crossdale  was  about  to  say:  "I 
refuse  categorically,"  and  to  tell  his  man  to  pack  his  luggage 
and  to  make  ready  to  start  back  to  Tamaresk.  Then  Fate 
played  a  trick  of  chance  upon  him;  one  of  those  pegs  on 
which,  curiously  enough,  its  threads  hang,  was  suddenly 
driven  into  the  wall  above  his  head  by  the  Hammer  of 
Destiny. 


100  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

As  Prince  Karol  pushed  the  papers  aside  he  uncovered  an 
illustrated  magazine  lying  on  the  table;  it  had  a  woman's 
portrait  on  the  cover — a  regal,  beautiful  woman's  head, 
with  long  pearl  eardrops  in  the  ears  and  a  string  of  pearls 
around  her  neck.  She  was  decidedly  royal  looking,  and  her 
eyes  were  grave,  and  yet  half  humorous.  It  was  an  older 
face  than  the  face  of  the  little  photograph  in  the  portfolio 
on  the  Californian  ranch,  but  it  was  the  same. 

Prince  Karol  quickly  covered  it  up  by  a  document  which 
he  held  in  his  hand  and  just  at  that  moment,  without  the 
window,  a  group  of  the  Queen's  Foresters  went  singing  by. 
From  where  he  sat  Crossdale  could  see  them  traverse  the 
road,  disappear  in  the  forest.  They  were  singing  musically, 
in  chorus  and  in  perfect  time: 

"What  shall  be  given 

To  him  who  comes  riding 

Over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests 

To  our  hill  city? 

Much  gold  and  glory?" 

This  time  the  verse  of  the  Queen's  song  had  a  very  pro- 
nounced effect  upon  the  young  man  in  the  deep  green  chair. 
The  voice  of  a  woman  seemed  to  call  to  him  across  his  life, 
and  in  this  half  barbaric  melody  there  was  a  summons  that 
he  had  never  heard  before.  It  seemed  as  though  some  one 
called  him,  as  though  an  invitation  were  royally  extended  to 
him.  He  looked  away  from  the  Prime  Minister,  who  waited 
for  his  answer.  Karol  Sarvanarof  was  impressive;  his  per- 
sonality was  distinctly  impressive  and  affected  Crossdale. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  101 

As  he  looked  away,  the  welcoming  room,  the  hospitality 
he  was  enjoying,  surrounded  him,  appealed  to  him.  His 
hand  wandered  over  to  the  papers  on  the  table;  he  touched 
the  plans,  which  had  fascinated  and  lured  him  in  California. 
The  reality  of  his  work  was  before  him.  A  land  to  open  up, 
a  mountain  to  tunnel,  a  road  to  build — and  a  promise — of 
the  woman  whose  picture  he  had  bought  when  he  was  a  lad. 

The  Prime  Minister  went  over  to  the  samovar  and  poured 
himself  another  cup  of  black  coffee  and  brought  over 
another  cup  to  Crossdale.  "Drink  this,"  he  said.  "This 
climate  demands  a  certain  amount  of  stimulant.  We  drink 
coffee  all  day  long.  Don't  give  your  answer  now;  take  a 
day  in  which  to  think  it  out.  Tomorrow  I  am  going  to 
entertain  you  according  to  the  traditions  of  the  forest;  I 
have  organized  a  wolf  hunt.  You  must  like  hunting — you 
are  a  Westerner;  you  know  what  big  game  is.  This  after- 
noon," he  continued,  "we  will  go  over  to  the  railroad  and 
inspect  the  work  of  your  colleagues,  and  meet  those  who 
still  remain  of  Baumgarten's  engineering  staff." 


CHAPTER   X 

PRINCE  SARVAN  DISPLAYS   THE  FERVOR  OF   THE  BOYS   OF   '76 

In  Prince  John's  charming  little  sitting  room,  where 
Crossdale  was  sure  the  exile  had  connived  and  plotted 
against  the  monarchy,  Stephen  busied  himself  with  his  cor- 
respondence. The  letters  with  the  firm's  stamp  in  the  corner 
and  the  plain  American  postmarks  looked  reassuring  and 
far  removed  from  intrigue.  In  one  letter  to  his  partner 
Caleb  Storm  said: 

"We  have  been  told  of  very  rich  oil  tracts  in  Karmania. 
Germany  and  Roumania  are  doing  their  best  to  get  their 
hands  on  them.  Now  the  Western  Transportation  Company 
isn't  going  to  sit  by  and  see  a  lot  of  dubs  get  rich  when  they 
could  be  doing  the  same  thing. 

"You  are  nearer  to  those  oil  wells  than  we  are  to  Texas 
and  you  ought  to  look  into  them  for  us.  We  have  been 
informed  that  they  are  in  the  possession  of  Karmanian 
peasants  who  know  nothing  about  the  riches  of  the  country. 
But  you  know  better  than  we  do.  Can  you  put  us  wise?" 

Crossdale  could  have  laughed  out  loud.  How  easy  it 
sounded!  Get  in  touch  with  oil  wells  in  a  place  where  you 
are  being  treated  like  a  pickpocket,  and  would  probably  be 
shot  in  the  back  if  you  wandered  out  of  the  front  yard ! 

"Little  old  Caleb  doesn't  guess  what  a  nest  I  am  in,"  he 
mused,  "or  I  don't  believe  he  would  have  been  so  keen  on 
sending  me  off." 

He  was   still   busy   with  his    correspondence   when,   in 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  103 

answer  to  his  "Come  in,"  Prince  Sarvan,  the  more  sympa- 
thetic of  the  two  brothers,  pushed  the  door  open  into  his 
cedar-lined  study.  "Good  morning,  Mr.  Crossdale.  May  I 
have  a  few  words  with  you?" 

"Sure,"  said  Crossdale  cordially.  "I  was  going  into  the 
living  room  to  answer  my  letters.  Sit  down,  won't  you? 
What  will  you  smoke?" 

"First  of  all,"  said  the  Prince,  "on  the  wolf  hunt  tomorrow 
you  will  go  with  the  Prime  Minister  in  his  treja.  And  wear 
your  warmest  clothes;  it  will  be  cold  coming  back." 

"I  did  not  know  it  was  the  season  for  wolf  hunting,"  said 
Crossdale.  "I  thought  it  was  too  early." 

"We  will  be  hunting  the  old  wolf,  the  mother  and  her 
young.  They  will  be  beaten  out  for  us  by  the  beaters." 

Prince  Sarvan  was  broad  shouldered,  fine  muscled,  appar- 
ently an  all-round  sport.  His  shapely  head  was  well  set 
above  his  military  collar  and  the  face  mobile  and  expressive. 
He  had  a  merry  mouth  and  kind  eyes,  and  his  hair  grew  in 
a  widow's  peak  on  his  forehead.  He  wore  it  brushed  up 
straight  like  the  bristles  of  a  stiff  hairbrush.  He  was  eager, 
with  much  charm  of  manner,  and  drew  his  chair  close  to 
Crossdale,  dropping  into  it  leaned  toward  him  and  began 
in  a  low  voice: 

"I  shall  only  be  able  to  sit  with  you  a  few  moments." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  let  in  for  secret  interviews,  Prince 
Sarvan.  I  shall  avoid  all  political  discussions  whilst  I  am 
in  Karmania." 

But  the  young  man  had  him.  He  laughed.  "Too  late! 
How  about  Jehanospelz  and  the  Queen's  escape  and  your 
gallant  rescue?  You  don't  mind  my  saying  that  you  began 


104  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

fairly  well  for  a  man  who  is  going  to  keep  out  of  things!" 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Crossdale  with  relief.  "I  am  darned 
glad  somebody  knows  something  about  anything  here — it 
is  a  relief,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

Sarvan  looked  amused.  "My  word,  you've  got  a  ju-jitsu 
swing,  Crossdale!"  he  nodded.  "By  gad,  you  broke  the  leg 
of  the  man  you  threw  out  of  the  window  last  night!  Did 
you  know  it?" 

Crossdale  exclaimed:  "Perfectly  great!  Secret  messengers 
ought  to  be  insured  against  accident!  Don't  send  me  any 
more  of  that  kind!  We  shoot  at  sight  out  West." 

The  Prince  was  apparently  undismayed  by  this  announce- 
ment. "Poor  Creta!  He's  as  faithful  as  your  negro,  and  I 
dare  say  you  would  not  like  to  have  his  leg  broken." 

Crossdale  laughed.  "You  would  be  more  likely  to  be  able 
to  break  it  than  his  head,  anyhow.  Jeff  would  have  broken 
a  tree  with  his  skull  if  any  one  had  pitched  him  against  it. 
But  I  think  too  much  of  him  to  send  him  into  a  man's 
room  at  night  to  play  the  part  of  postman."  Crossdale  took 
a  cigarette  out  of  the  box  on  the  table  and  lit  it.  "Since  you 
have  got  my  number,  Prince  Sarvan,  what  is  the  next?"  And 
then  he  asked,  with  a  naive  interest,  "Does  the  Queen — 
does  Her  Majesty  know  the  truth  about  her  escape?" 

Prince  Sarvan  shook  his  head.  "She  thinks  that  Captain 
Zito's  men  were  part  of  her  own  escort."  He  shrugged. 
"What  do  Queens  know  about  anything  in  their  kingdom?" 

He  seemed  to  ask  this  of  Crossdale,  who  returned: 
"Search  me!  I  know  about  as  much  of  the  customs  of 
royalty,  Prince  Sarvan,  as  I  do  about  hunting  young  wolves 
in  September." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  105 

Sarvan  leaned  across  the  table  toward  Crossdale.  "I  have 
been  mad  to  talk  to  you  ever  since  you  came.  I  know  all 
about  your  meeting  with  Prince  John  on  the  steamer.  I  am 
a  democrat,  heart  and  soul,  heart  and  soul!"  Sarvan's 
vibrating  voice  revealed  unmistakably  that  he  had  a  great 
deal  of  both  heart  and  soul. 

"I  would  lay  down  my  life  for  Prince  John.  There  are 
many  of  us  in  Karmania;  we  are  all  knit  together  to  the 
end."  His  fine  dark  eyes  were  fastened  magnetically  upon 
the  American;  he  knit  his  brown  fingers  together  convul- 
sively. "You  will  sunder  the  very  vitals  of  Karmania  before 
you  can  break  us  asunder." 

Without  the  door  was  the  low  whining  of  one  of  the  wolf- 
hounds. Sarvan  sprang  up  and  opened  the  door  and  let  in 
Griffen,  who  came  in,  caressing  the  Prince.  Here  was 
another  favorite  of  theirs!  What  did  it  mean?  They  followed 
Crossdale,  they  followed  Sarvan.  They  were  evidently  revo- 
lutionary dogs! 

"See  how  I  trust  you!"  Sarvan  exclaimed.  "I  have  put 
my  life  in  your  hands." 

And  Crossdale  said  brusquely:  "I  came  from  San  Fran- 
cisco to  build  your  road,  and  I  don't  intend  to  get  mixed 
up  in  revolutions,  if  I  have  to  break  the  legs  of  forty  mid- 
night messengers.  And  when  you  communicate  with  your — " 
he  hesitated  and  added,  "your  former  Prime  Minister,  if  you 
intend  to  communicate  with  him,  just  ask  him  to  cut  out 
all  this  theatrical  stuff." 

Griffen,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  young  men, 
gave  a  tremendous  yawn,  then  lay  down  between  them  with 
his  head  on  his  paws. 


106  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"You  will  feel  differently,"  said  Prince  Sarvan,  "when 
you  have  been  in  Karmania  some  time.  You  will  become 
carried  away  by  the  spirit  of  the  moment.  You  have  made 
a  tremendous  impression  on  Prince  John;  you  will  be  one  of 
us,  I  am  convinced.  It  would  be  impossible  for  such  a 
republican  as  you  are  not  to  take  an  interest  in  our  deliv- 
erance. My  brother  Paul  will  be  King  when  the  old  King 
dies,  unless  we  are  a  republic  before  then.  Have  you 
observed  my  brother  Paul,  Mr.  Crossdale?" 

"Not  especially." 

"It  would  be  a  tragedy  if  he  succeeds  to  the  throne.  He 
is  a  debauchee,  a  cruel  despot,  and  in  the  case  of  his  death 
the  Queen  will  reign  alone,  according  to  Karmanian  law." 

Crossdale  asked:  "If  Prince  John  succeeds  in  overthrow- 
ing the  monarchy,  who  will  be  the  head  of  the  Government?" 

And  Sarvan  answered  simply:  "Himself." 

It  was  all  unreal  to  the  traveler — spectacular.  He  remem- 
bered one  of  Jefferson  Robinson's  Darky  songs: 

"Hush,  little  baby,  don't  you  cry! 
You'll  be  President  by  and  by." 

He  looked  into  the  sympathetic  face  of  the  young  man. 
"You  and  your  brother  are  sworn  enemies,  aren't  you?" 

"Naturally,"  shrugged  Sarvan.  "I  live  for  liberty  and 
equality." 

"It  is  a  wonder  to  me  you  have  not  been  assassinated  long 
ago." 

With  attractive  gravity  the  Prince  responded:  "I  owe 
my  life  to  the  Queen."  He  sprang  to  his  feet,  put  his  hand 
to  his  forehead.  Heljen!"  he  murmured,  then  said:  "I  am 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  107 

leaving  Karmania  today.  Her  Majesty's  power  is  limited. 
I  am  young,  ambitious;  I  want  to  live  for  the  new  republic." 

The  two  young  men  stood  looking  at  each  other.  Sarvan 
put  out  his  hand.  "Good-bye,  Crossdale.  Remember  my 
safety  is  in  your  keeping." 

He  opened  the  door  and  passed  out  quickly,  the  other 
following  into  the  living  room.  But  Crossdale  did  not  ask 
himself  if  he  should  demand  an  escort  back  to  Tamaresk.  He 
did  not  want  to  go.  It  was  weird,  not  without  danger  pos- 
sibly. Things  were  more  interesting  than  any  that  had  come 
his  way  and  he  had  a  personal  reason  for  wanting  to  go 
across  the  mountain.  He  went  to  the  writing  table,  wrote  a 
commonplace  account  of  his  arrival  to  Caleb  Storm  and 
finished  his  letter  just  before  Korvan  came  in  to  ask  for  his 
letters  that  he  might  send  them  to  Tamaresk  by  special 
messenger. 

"Is  this  all?" 

Crossdale  laughed.  "Honestly,  Lieutenant  Korvan,"  he 
said,  "you  don't  think  that  this  sort  of  thing  is  conducive  to 
correspondence,  do  you?" 

Lieutenant  Korvan  apologized  deprecatingly.  "Can  I 
have  a  few  words  with  you,  Mr.  Crossdale?  I  have  been  try- 
ing to  find  you  all  day." 

"Now,"  thought  Crossdale,  "here  is  another  duet — Lieu- 
tenant Korvan  and  myself.  What  is  he  going  to  spring  on 
me?" 

There  was  nothing  of  the  Oriental  about  Korvan.  He 
looked  like  a  bank  clerk.  He  was  pale  and  freckled,  with 
light  eyes  and  reddish  hair,  closely  cropped  and  bristling,  an 
auburn  aureole  round  his  face.  He  had  a  frank,  unassuming 


108  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

manner,  and  Crossdale  believed  him  to  be  perfectly  honest 
and  thoroughly  sincere. 

"I  like  you,  Mr.  Crossdale,"  he  said,  "awfully." 

"Thanks,"  said  the  American  briefly. 

"And  so  does  the  Prime  Minister,  Prince  Karol." 

With  a  slight  drawl,  Crossdale  answered:  "I  don't 
know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  about  that,  Lieutenant 
Korvan.  The  favor  of  Princes  isn't  always  to  be  desired." 

Korvan  smiled  discreetly.  "I  have  been  in  Prince  Karol's 
confidence  for  ten  years,"  he  said,  "and  today  I  asked  him 
the  first  favor  I  have  ever  asked  him." 

"Now  what's  coming?"  wondered  the  American. 

"I  took  the  civil  engineering  course  at  the  Buda  Pesth 
University.  I  want  to  help  Karmania;  I  want  to  be  con- 
nected with  the  progress  of  my  country.  I  have  asked  his 
Excellenccy,  as  a  reward  for  ten  years'  service,  to  attach 
me  to  your  staff.  I  hope  that  you  will  use  me  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  road.  You  will  need  an  interpreter;  you  will  need 
a  right-hand  man." 

This  was  the  first  practical  suggestion  that  had  been 
made  to  Crossdale  in  Karmania,  but  before  he  could  rejoice 
in  it,  it  occurred  to  him:  "Ah,  here  is  another  spy!  They 
have  put  him  in  Refan  Ugo's  place!  He  will  be  able  to 
keep  a  real  tab  on  me!" 

"I  am  very  much  obliged,  Lieutenant  Korvan,"  he  said, 
without  any  great  warmth.  "I  have  not  signed  my  con- 
tracts yet  with  the  Prime  Minister.  I  will  talk  it  over  with 
him  later." 


CHAPTER  XI 

HE  ANSWERS  THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD 

In  a  fur-lined  motor  coat,  thick  gloves  and  serviceable 
tweed  cap,  Crossdale  smoked  on  the  porch  before  sunrise  the 
following  day  until  his  host  should  join  him  for  the  hunt.  He 
could  not  forget  the  interview  with  Prince  Sarvan;  it 
haunted  him.  And  the  fact  that  this  stranger  in  a  moment 
so  vital  should  take  him  into  his  confidene — it  was 
unheard  of,  weird  beyond  words.  He  wondered  at  the  cir- 
cumstances which  had  brought  him  here,  and  what  it  was 
all  going  to  do  to  him. 

A  superb  treja,  piled  with  rugs,  waited  before  the  door, 
the  driver  muffled  to  the  ears,  and  two  huntsmen  keeping 
the  nervy  little  stallions  from  lashing  over  their  traces  by 
pulling  their  manes,  fondling  them,  feeding  them  with  sugar. 
A  bit  further,  enveloped  in  a  rimy  mist,  a  group  of  horse- 
men, each  man  with  a  shotgun  over  his  shoulder,  a  leather 
belt,  into  which  was  stuck  a  hunting  knife,  were  ranged  in  a 
severe  row,  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  through  which  the 
Prime  Minister  should  appear.  They  wore  his  livery — 
wine-red  tunic  with  orange  frogs,  black  trousers,  the  inevi- 
table high  boots,  now  with  spurs,  soft  black  hats  surrounded 
by  a  yellow  cord,  the  arms  of  Sarvanarof  embroidered  in 
yellow  on  the  felt. 

Crossdale  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  the  horses.  He 
did  not  know  which  to  choose  among  the  fifteen  odd  stal- 


110  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

lions,  bred  to  hunt  in  these  regions — the  little  Arab,  all 
nerve  and  muscle,  with  skin  as  soft  as  the  palm  of  a  woman's 
hand;  the  Russian,  full  of  curve  and  grace;  the  compact 
little  Cossack,  from  whose  nostrils  fire  and  flame  seemed  to 
spurt  as  his  rider  drew  him  back,  kicking  and  biting  and 
lashing  out  with  his  fine  little  hoofs,  from  the  ardent  com- 
panions. Crossdale  had  shot  over  Southern  marshes,  stalked 
caribou  and  moose  in  Canada,  trapped  bear  in  the  Rockies. 
But  this  promised  to  be  the  most  novel  and  exciting  hunt 
of  his  life. 

He  heard  Karol's  voice,  speaking  in  a  tone  whose  arro- 
gance was  very  different  to  the  suave  tones  which  his  guest 
had  hitherto  heard  him  use.  Coming  quickly  out  of  the 
door  of  the  hunting  lodge,  followed  by  a  cringing  servant 
in  hunting  dress,  a  man  who  had  evidently  misconstrued 
some  order,  the  Prime  Minister  hurled  a  last  direction  to 
the  man,  then  lifted  his  hand  and  struck  him  violently,  with 
a  gesture  so  practised  that  it  must  have  been  frequent,  on 
both  cheeks.  The  fellow  swallowed  this  insult,  bowed  and 
saluted  and  slunk  away  to  join  the  group  of  hunters  below 
with  their  horses. 

The  Vrime  Minister  wore  a  belted  tunic  of  sable  with  a 
sable  cap,  and  over  his  shoulder  was  slung  his  field  glass. 
He  looked  fresh  as  a  rose,  with  his  perfectly  trimmed 
pointed  gray  beard,  almost  clean-shaven,  so  closely  was  it 
cut.  He  seemed  sparkling  and  full  of  health  and  vigor  and 
full  of  power. 

"What  magnificent  timber!"  exclaimed  the  Calif ornian. 
The  giant  pines  and  cedars  lifted  their  pinkish  trunks 
through  the  mists. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  111 

"We  cut  hundreds  of  thousands  of  trees  every  year,"  said 
Karol,  "and  ship  by  the  bullock  carts  over  the  steppes,  the 
way  you  traveled,  to  Roumania,  to  Turkey.  You  can 
imagine  how  it  will  facilitate  things  when  we  have  the  rail- 
road." He  removed  his  cigarette  to  smile  fully  at  his 
guest,  with  a  slight  lifting  of  his  bushy  eyebrows.  "Have 
you  ever  hunted  wolves?" 

"Never." 

"There  will  probably  not  be  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty.  The  proper  kills  in  the  winter  foot  up  into  a  thousand, 
but  then  we  have  a  bigger  force  of  people  at  our  disposition. 
What  do  you  think  of  my  two  nephews?"  Prince  Karol 
asked  this  question  with  an  abruptness  and  sudden  turning 
of  his  head  that  very  nearly  made  his  companion  start,  and 
before  Crossdale  could  reply  he  continued: 

"My  people  don't  like  to  hunt  with  Prince  Sarvan.  He  is 
so  erratic — possibly  I  should  say  temperamental.  On  the 
last  boar  hunt  he  outraged  all  etiquette  and  alone,  with  a 
couple  of  dogs,  his  back  against  a  tree,  he  killed  ten  boar, 
without  calling  in  his  fellow  sportsmen.  He  took  the  pick 
of  the  hunt,  put  every  one  in  a  bad  humor." 

Crossdale  laughed.     "Rather  sporting!" 

The  twenty  hunters  on  their  little  horses  had  made  a 
wide  detour.  Now  they  were  in  front  of  the  treja,  a  smart 
regular  little  army  riding  two  and  two.  Over  narrow  avenues 
of  yellow,  pine-strewn  ground;  over  miles  and  miles  of  pine 
and  cedar  paths,  they  flew.  Here  and  there  the  under- 
growth was  a  thick  tangle  of  brush,  and  here  and  there  broke 
into  open  spaces  where  the  brush  was  cleared.  The  perfume 
of  the  morning  and  the  perfume  of  the  forest  was  like 


112  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

nectar  to  their  nostrils.  The  trees  thinned  toward  the 
forest's  hem.  The  treja  turned  abruptly,  swung  into  the 
open,  stopped  with  a  jerk  as  the  driver  brought  the  animals 
to  their  haunches  with  a  cry.  Now  before  them  spread  the 
magic  world  of  the  limitless  inland  desert,  which  Crossdale 
rejoined  here  many  miles  beyond  the  entrance  he  had  made 
into  the  Karmanian  forest  at  Cye. 

"Look,"  said  Prince  Karol,  in  a  hushed  voice,  "at  our 
inland  sea." 

Before  them  spread  an  ocean  of  delicious  pinkish  mist, 
which  lay  all  along,  winged  as  though  with  little  pinions, 
over  the  plain.  As  sunrise  smote  it,  it  blushed  red  in  the 
morning.  Black  forest  hemmed  it  round  like  a  velvet 
border.  Crossdale  could  have  absorbed  its  beauty  forever, 
watching  the  lifting  of  the  mysterious  veil  from  the  corru- 
gated frosty  land. 

Further  along,  a  dark  square,  like  a  handkerchief,  seemed 
dropped  upon  the  earth.  It  was  the  meet  itself,  comprising 
the  Queen's  hunters,  the  hunters  of  the  Prime  Minister,  the 
young  Princes'  men,  horses,  dogs — all  waiting  for  the  arrival 
of  Prince  Karol  and  the  American  engineer.  As  the  treja 
drew  up,  the  horn  blew  a  silver  prolonged  note;  from  the 
throat  of  every  hunter  rang  the  cry  of:  "Heljen!  Heljen!" 
finishing  up  with:  "The  Queen!" 

As  the  sound  hung  upon  the  morning  air  the  sun  rose 
and  the  mist  rose  with  it,  and  all  the  rippling  sea  of  the 
steppes  grew  red  as  a  rose.  The  Princes  Paul  and  Sarvan 
came  straggling  out  from  the  meet  up  to  the  sledge.  They 
wore  the  Queen's  colors,  hunting  coats  of  myrtle-green,  with 
white  boots  and  astrachan  caps. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  113 

"Mr.  Crossdale,"  called  Prince  Sarvan,  "doesn't  it  make 
you  think  of  big  game  hunting  in  the  West  of  your  coun- 
try?" 

"Rather  not!"  exclaimed  Crossdale.     "It  is  unique!" 

"But  hunting  grizzlies  in  the  Rockies  is  pretty  good  all- 
round  sport,  as  well! "  Sarvan  came  round  to  the  side  of  the 
treja  where  Crossdale  was,  and  although  he  said  nothing 
as  he  wrung  his  hand,  the  American  understood  that  the 
young  man  meant  it  to  be  a  good-bye. 

And  Crossdale  looked  over  at  the  other,  the  presumptive 
heir,  Prince  Paul.  Paul,  slenderer,  more  boyish-looking, 
seemed  younger  than  Sarvan.  He  was  lightly  built,  his 
face  weaker  and  more  arrogant.  He  sat  his  little  Arab  well 
and  listened  laughing  to  Prince  Karol's  tale  of  how  he  had 
beaten  the  mujik  before  leaving  the  lodge.  Crossdale  could 
not  but  remark  the  difference  between  brothers — the  ardent, 
emancipated  Sarvan,  and  the  other,  wedded  to  the  rotting, 
thread-bare  traditions  of  an  old  system.  On  either  side  were 
ranged  a  line  of  men,  long  hunting  knives  at  their  belts  and 
short  rifles.  They  wound  the  reins  of  the  horses  around  their 
wrists. 

Karol  pointed  with  his  sable-covered  arm  to  the  far,  dim 
distance.  "The  wolves  come  either  from  over  there,"  he  said, 
"or  the  forest.  We  do  not  know,  but  we  are  ready."  And  he 
nodded  understandingly  to  Crossdale. 

One  of  the  hunters  in  green,  who  had  joined  Sarvan,  red- 
bearded,  blue-eyed,  with  a  wide,  childlike  mouth  and  a  naive 
expression  of  humility  and  authority  combined,  rode  up  to 
the  side  of  the  treja  and  stood  stiffly  and  saluted,  and  what 


114  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

he  said  in  the  dialect  of  his  country  to  the  Prime  Minister, 
Prince  Karol  repeated  to  the  American. 

"There  has  been  a  good  harry;  we  have  only  to  wait." 

The  master  of  the  meet,  the  red-bearded  Karmanian, 
turned  and  galloped  back  to  his  serried  group,  gesticulating 
to  them,  waving,  bellowing  at  them  as  though  they  were 
cattle,  in  a  resounding  voice  used  to  reaching  into  far  dis- 
tance and  to  mastering  dogs  and  men. 

Prince  Karol  accepted  one  of  Crossdale's  cigarettes. 
"Undisciplined,"  he  said,  "arrogant,  Prince  Sarvan  needs 
some  lessons.  Life  will  teach  them." 

But  the  American  hardly  heard  him.  The  hunter  was 
wakening  in  him.  Nothing  could  reach  him  now  but  the 
voice  of  the  open.  He  was  beginning  to  be  keyed  up  and 
keen  as  he  had  not  been  in  many  a  long  day,  if  ever.  His 
nerves  grew  on  edge.  Every  bit  of  him  responded  to  the 
bright  sparkling  notes  of  the  horn.  He  saw  the  meet  divide, 
spread,  a  group  go  off  into  the  forests,  another  ride  down 
on  to  the  plain  to  the  left  of  them,  like  a  torn  bit  of  a  hand- 
kerchief thrown  upon  the  steppes,  and  in  front  of  them, 
like  a  hedge,  ranged  a  line  of  Prince  Karol's  hunters  in  their 
wine-colored  tunics,  their  black  hats — trim,  compact,  the 
flanks  of  the  horses  turned  to  them,  swished  upon  by  the 
active  tails  of  the  stallions,  now  as  nerved  up  and  keen  as 
the  human  beings,  whinnying,  crying,  but  forced  to  be  still 
by  the  cruel  bits  that  held  them  like  a  vise.  But  the  dogs! 

"No  finer  wolfhounds  in  Central  Europe!"  said  Prince 
Karol. 

Their  trainers  had  them  in  leash.  They  seemed  to  be 
endless.  Larger  than  the  average  hunting  dog,  with  long 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  115 

stiff,  grayish  hair  and  sharp  sensitive  noses  and  muscular 
jaws;  some  of  them  old  and  well  seasoned,  all  mad  with 
excitement,  straining  at  their  leashes,  yapping,  yelping,  save 
here  and  there  a  new  dog  who  peacefully,  on  his  haunches, 
bit  at  his  fleas,  and  close  to  the  feet  of  one  of  the  hunters  a 
couple  of  hounds  slept,  with  their  noses  on  their  paws;  but 
the  majority  were  alive  and  awake.  There  was  the  tena- 
cious jaw  of  the  bull  dog,  the  agility  of  the  terrier. 

It  seemed  to  Crossdale  that  they  sat  like  this,  talking  of 
nothing,  smoking,  restless,  on  edge,  for  an  hour  or  more. 
His  ears  were  keen,  but  save  the  insistent  appealing  call  of 
the  bugles  from  the  forest,  and  the  answer  from  the  steppes, 
and  the  cries  of:  "Tela!  Tela!"  and  the  dogs,  nothing  broke 
the  vast,  cruel  silence  of  the  steppes  and  forest,  until  sud- 
denly there  came  from  somewhere  a  sound  like  the  rushing 
of  the  wind,  a  sound  like  the  moaning  of  the  wind,  borne  to 
them,  then  dropped;  then  taken  up  again  and  borne  along, 
smiting  their  attention  as  nothing  else  could  have  done. 

"Listen!"  said  Prince  Karol.  "The  wolves!"  A  shiver 
of  excitement  ran  through  Crossdale  from  his  spine  down 
through  his  limbs,  and  the  whole  experience  seemed  to  him 
like  a  draught  to  the  dregs.  Again  and  again,  swelling,  sub- 
siding, came  that  sea-like  rush  of  sound,  unlike  anything  he 
had  ever  heard  before  in  the  way  of  a  wild  cry,  and  the  dogs 
began  to  go  mad.  They  pulled  and  strained  at  their 
leashes. 

Karol  and  Crossdale  stood  up  in  the  treja  and  leaned  for- 
ward to  scan  the  Steppe.  "They  are  coming  from  the 
steppes,  Crossdale!  Watch  the  horizon!"  And  presently 
the  American  saw  in  the  dim  distance  the  Steppe  coming  to 


116  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

life,  part  of  it  form  into  a  cloud,  a  blue  cloud,  like  a  moving 
mantle  drawing  ever  nearer,  nearer.  He  could  not  take  his 
magnetized  gaze  from  it;  he  lost  track  of  everything  else 
but  this.  Hunters  and  foot  men,  Prince  Karol  and  the  guard, 
the  dogs,  everything  else  ceased  to  exist  but  that  approach- 
ing mass.  It  seemed  so  strange  that  it  should  be  cut  like 
this  out  of  the  life  of  the  forest,  born  and  thrown  down 
toward  them  for  destruction. 

At  first  it  appeared  to  be  solid,  advancing  in  a  compact 
mass.  Then  as  it  came  nearer  it  broke,  fell  apart,  came 
together  again,  and  the  cry  became  more  distinct  and  audible. 
And  then  there  came  to  them  on  the  wind  the  unforgetable 
odor  of  the  wolf,  the  violent  odor  of  the  gray-haired  wild 
things — and  Crossdale  could  not  forget  that  smell  for 
months;  it  struck  his  nostrils  with  its  sharp  unpleasant  odor. 
Until  now  he  had  been  dignified,  a  formal  man  standing 
civilly  by  the  side  of  his  royal  host.  And  in  a  second  now  he 
became  primitive,  the  hunter. 

"Excuse  me,  Prince,"  he  said,  springing  out  of  the  treja. 
"I've  got  to  go  and  meet  them.  Tell  them  to  give  me  a 
mount,  will  you?" 

He  did  not  know  how  he  did  it,  but  in  a  couple  of  seconds 
more  he  had  the  body  of  a  horse  between  his  knees,  a  gun 
over  his  shoulder,  and  his  stallion  pressed  the  flanks  of  the 
next  one  in  the  front  line;  and  he  bent  forward  with  a 
strained  expression  of  anguish  and  of  fascinated  eagerness  to 
watch  the  advance  of  the  gray  crowd.  And  louder  and 
louder  came  what  was  now  a  hoarse  yelping  cry,  a  cry  to 
strike  terror  to  a  man  alone  on  the  plain  or  in  the  forest;  and 
the  filthy  smell  of  the  wild,  penetrating  and  eternal,  and 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  117 

never  to  be  lost  from  the  fur,  be  it  ten  years  a  rug  on  the 
floor  of  civilization — the  scent  of  the  wolves  came  like  an 
accursed  thing  to  his  lips  and  his  nostrils. 

As  the  pack  advanced  he  began  to  see  their  separate  forms 
distinctly.  As  a  moving  mass  it  was  full  of  savage  beauty 
and  grace.  There  was  the  slender,  eager,  anxious  mother 
wolf  with  her  young;  there  was  the  heavy  headed,  hot- 
fanged  old  wolf,  his  yellow  jaws  dripping  with  foam;  and  the 
crass,  crude,  awkward,  ungainly  wolf  cub,  the  wolf  puppy. 
Heads  up  and  heads  down,  baying  like  lovesick  dogs  at 
the  moon,  they  came  and  suddenly,  as  they  fully  perceived 
the  humans,  the.,  pack  stopped,  so  instantly  that  the  wolf 
puppies  rolled  over  on  each  other.  They  huddled,  they 
waited,  in  full  sight  of  the  dogs  and  the  men.  Then  the 
pack  separated  as  though  by  some  mysterious  order,  and  one 
half  made  for  the  forest;  gray  old  wolves  with  the  paler 
young,  the  watchful  woman  wolf  followed  by  her  children — 
to  be  met  by  the  hunters  of  the  Queen.  And  the  rest  of  the 
pack  came  on. 

Crossdale  heard  a  voice  at  his  side  say:  "Fire  when  you 
see — "  And  he  interrupted:  "Oh,  hell — the  whites  of  their 
eyes!"  And  shot  and  shot,  and  saw  his  bullets  meet  their 
mark  and  the  havoc  began.  There  was  no  escape  for  these 
children  of  the  steppes  and  the  forests.  One  after  another 
they  leaped  and  fell,  screamed  and  came  on.  As  they  fell, 
their  comrades,  driven  to  meet  their  death  through  starva- 
tion, fell  on  their  bleeding  bodies,  and  were  shot  as  they 
plunged  their  fangs  in  the  steaming  flesh.  They  rolled  and 
they  rattled  in  their  great  wide-open  throats.  From  the 
center  of  the  pack  one  leaped  like  a  deer  over  the  heads  of 


118  THE  QUEEN     OF     KARMANIA 

the  others,  straight  for  the  horses,  and  the  men,  and  Cross- 
dale  shot  him  as  he  leaped,  got  him  in  the  heart  and  he  fell, 
whirling  as  he  fell. 

The  American  heard  the  voice  of  Prince  Karol:  "A  ripping 
shot,  Mr.  Crossdale!  He's  your  wolf!" 

Then  they  unleashed  the  mad  hounds,  who  fell  on  what 
was  left  of  the  living  like  another  pack  of  liberated  wolves, 
to  the  cry  of:  "Tela!  Telal  Heljen!  Heljenl" 

Crazed  with  the  scent  of  blood,  the  dogs  rushed  half  mad 
into  the  carnage,  leaping  at  the  jaws  and  the  throats  and 
upon  the  flanks  of  the  unattached  wolves,  and  no  further 
shot  was  fired.  Crossdale  watched  the  dogs  fight  the 
wolves,  clinging  like  rats  to  the  throats,  thrown  off  and 
returning,  knowing  where  to  fasten  and  where  to  hold.  It 
was  agony  to  the  American  to  sit  and  take  no  further  part. 

Then  the  foot  hunters,  with  black  leather  aprons  over 
their  wine-colored  tunics,  unsheathed  their  long  knives  and 
as  they  advanced  Stephen  was  conscious  that  the  wolves — 
what  was  left  of  them — had  advanced  too,  and  that  men  on 
their  knees  with  their  knives,  and  bloody  dogs  were  fight- 
ing hand  to  hand  with  the  wolves. 

He  heard  the  voice  which  had  spoken  before  at  his  side 
saying:  "You  have  four  to  your  credit,  Crossdale.  The 
cleaners  will  take  them  for  you.  It  has  been  good  sport, 
excellent  sport." 

And  he  saw  Prince  Karol  mounted,  serene,  tranquil,  one 
white  gloved  hand  thrust  through  the  belt  of  his  short  sable 
coat,  the  other  holding  his  field  glass  to  his  eyes.  Like  a 
spectator  at  a  bull  fight,  the  Prime  Minister  gloated  upon 
the  carnage  and  the  massacre  of  the  wolves. 


THE    QUEEN     OF    KARMANIA  119 

As  Crossdale  saw  it — saw  two  of  the  men  coming  toward 
him  with  a  great  gray  wolf  between  them,  hung  by  the 
fangs  on  an  iron  bar,  and  the  men,  smiling,  lifted  toward 
his  horse  the  wolf  he  had  shot  in  the  air — he  felt  suddenly 
ashamed  to  be  part  of  this  bloody  scene.  Already  over 
them  in  the  air  hovered  the  great  forms  of  the  vultures. 
Already  the  veteran  dogs,  some  of  them  suffering  from 
wounds  and  some  only  honestly  tired,  were  coming  to  heel. 
Crossdale  dismounted.  The  great  blue  cloud  which  had 
come  so  rapidly  across  the  plain  was  exterminated.  He 
turned  his  eyes  away  from  the  mass,  from  what  was  left  of 
it;  the  returning  dogs,  and  the  kneeling  men  finishing  the 
wolves — beginning  already  their  work  that  would  last  all  day, 
of  hiding  and  skinning  and  preparing  the  fur.  Over  the  back 
of  the  saddle  of  each  hunter  hung  a  great  gray  wolf. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HE  COMES  FACE  TO  FACE  WITH  THE  INTRIGUES  OF  A  PATRIOT 

The  smell  of  the  Wild  Thing  pursued  him  to  a  log  cabin 
midway  between  the  meet  and  the  Queen's  lodge,  where  he 
faced  the  Prime  Minister  in  front  of  a  fire  of  cedar  logs, 
before  which  they  eagerly  drew  off  their  gloves  and  warmed 
their  hands.  It  was  growing  bitter  cold.  On  a  rough  table 
jugs  of  ale,  green  bottles  of  reka,  bread  and  cheese  tempted 
the  hunters,  and  a  woodsman  in  national  peasant  dress 
carried  in  a  steaming  plate  of  flapjacks,  the  only  hot  article 
of  food  beside  the  inevitable  Turkish  coffee. 

Prince  Karol  and  Crossdale,  according  to  etiquette, 
preceded  every  one  else  to  the  cabin,  to  be  followed  shortly 
by  the  hunt.  The  sport  had  exhilarated  Crossdale  to  the 
last  degree,  and  he  had  had  something  of  the  feeling  he 
used  to  experience  at  home  in  the  old  days  after  the  proper 
number  of  cocktails,  when  he  wouldn't  let  himself  take 
another  because  he  had  a  deal  on — the  keen  point  of  enjoy- 
ment before  the  swing  over!  Now  he  was  drunk  with  sport 
and  air  and  the  excitement  of  the  kill,  and  his  companion 
appeared  to  him  to  be  a  first  rate  chap,  a  glorious  host. 

The  Prince,  who  had  thrown  off  his  furs,  stood  beaming, 
rubbing  his  attractive,  supple  hands.  Like  Refan  Ugo,  the 
Prince  too  wore  a  little  finger  ring  of  an  uncut  stone  set  in 
rough  gold.  In  the  case  of  the  Prime  Minister  it  was  a 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  121 

pigeons-blood  ruby.  His  cheeks  were  as  red  as  a  boy's,  his 
eyes  fairly  shot  out  sparks  of  fire  and  enjoyment.  He  was 
a  splendidly  preserved,  ripping  old  boy  for  his  age,  Cross- 
dale  thought,  tuned  up  to  this  high  pitch  of  the  joy  of  life, 
that  physical  well  being  that  comes  with  exercise  and  the 
chase.  Crossdale  had  not  anything  in  the  world  against 
anybody.  And  least  of  all  against  the  master  of  this  bully 
little  cedar  cabin,  with  its  odorous  fire  and  its  tempting 
lunch.  Possibly  Prince  Karol  thought  that  the  American 
also,  divested  of  his  big  coat,  was  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
vigorous  healthy  animal,  for  tonight  he  was  at  his  best. 

"You're  a  first  rate  sport,"  he  nodded  at  the  American. 
"I  knew  it  the  first  time  I  saw  you  in  the  living  room  of  the 
Queen's  lodge.  Each  individual  has  all  sorts  of  signs  written 
over  him,  and  any  good  student  of  human  nature  can  read 
them.  You  see  the  good  business  man — most  of  your  coun- 
trymen are  that — or  you  see  the  temperamental  enthusiast, 
or  the  stolid  materialist,  but  whenever  I  see  an  all-round 
sport  written  on  a  man  I  like  him." 

"Thanks,"  said  Crossdale.  "It's  the  best  compliment  you 
could  pay  me.  But  shooting  a  few  wild  animals  doesn't 
give  you  a  diploma,  you  know,  Prince  Karol." 

The  face  of  the  Karmanian  expressed  cordial  liking  for 
Crossdale.  "You  will  get  your  diploma  on  the  other  side 
of  Mount  Nepta,  when  you  open  the  Royal  State  Railroad 
for  us."  Karol  went  over  to  the  table  and  took  his  seat  and 
poured  out  with  his  own  hands  a  mug  of  ale  for  Crossdale. 

"There's  no  reason  on  God's  earth  why  we  should  wait  for 
a  lot  of  hunters.  The  Princes  are  always  late.  Come,  Mr. 
Crossdale."  Karol  lifted  his  own  ale  mug  and  said.  "The 


122  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Queen."  They  had  drunk  other  toasts  to  her  at  the  Queen's 
lodge,  before,  but  it  seemed  amusing  to  Crossdale  to  drink 
it  alone  with  her  Prime  Minister,  both  standing,  and  the 
American  repeated:  "The  Queen"  with  a  great  deal  of  grace 
and  a  sincere  gratitude  for  all  the  fun  she  was  giving  him 
in  her  fine  forests  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Nepta.  He  fell  to 
with  a  hunter's  appetite  like  a  barbarian,  finding  everything 
wonderfully  delicious.  "If  I  lived  here,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self, "I'd  be  like  these  people — half-barbarian,  primitive, 
a  wild  man,  hunting  six  days  in  the  week  and  plotting 
against  kingdoms  on  the  seventh." 

There  was  a  sound  of  horns,  of  bells,  of  the  coming 
hunters,  and  in  another  minute  the  door  of  the  cabin  was 
burst  open  without  ceremony,  and  a  man  in  the  livery  of 
the  Queen,  pale,  dishevelled,  with  distraught  face,  half 
dragged  in  by  Karol's  and  the  Queen's  servants,  rushed  at 
them,  fell  at  Karol's  feet  and  beating  his  forehead  upon 
the  ground,  cried  out  things  unintelligible  to  Crossdale,  but 
things  which  he  knew  were  of  great  import.  Then  followed 
a  confused  murmur  of  voices,  of  the  servants  talking 
together,  with  the  man — on  his  feet  now — as  spokesman, 
pointing,  weeping,  beating  his  breast,  and  the  Prime 
Minister  erect,  immobile,  staring  at  him.  But  Crossdale 
was  so  absorbed  in  the  picture  of  this  bearer  of  evil  tidings 
that  he  did  not  recall  how  Karol  had  looked  when  the 
news  was  brought. 

Then  the  Prime  Minister,  seizing  his  napkin  of  red  linen, 
waved  it  as  if  it  were  a  bloody  flag,  crying  out  words  that 
sounded  savage  to  Crossdale.  He  fairly  beat  them  from 
the  room  like  dogs,  evidently  cursing  them,  pushing  them 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  123 

away  and  demanding  insistently  Captain  Korvan.  The 
servants,  jostling  each  other,  haggard,  worn,  weary,  many 
of  them  covered  with  the  blood  of  the  kill,  crying  "Heljen! 
H el jen!"  and  other  unintelligible  words,  rushed  out  as  they 
had  come,  dragging  the  messenger  with  them,  fearing  that 
perhaps  if  he  remained  behind  the  Prime  Minister  would 
treat  him  badly. 

Then  Prince  Karol,  snatching  up  his  coat  and  cap  and 
gloves,  cried  out  to  Crossdale  in  a  tense  voice:  "Prince 
Paul  is  killed,  Mr.  Crossdale.  They  have  found  him  shot 
through  the  heart  in  the  forest.  Come,  come — let  us  get  out 
of  this.  Let  us  get  on  to  the  lodge  at  once.  Come!  Come!" 

Then  Crossdale  realized  that  the  Prince  was  deadly  pale. 
As  he  hurried  out  of  the  cabin  into  the  open,  he  seemed 
almost  to  stagger,  and  Stephen  put  out  his  arm  instinctively, 
and  Prince  Karol  grasped  it.  They  had  planned  to  remain 
several  hours  in  the  cabin,  eating,  drinking  and  resting,  and 
to  drive  back  under  the  full  September  moon,  but  the  treja, 
with  its  four  stallions,  was  there  before  the  door.  The  driver 
and  postilion  had  been  eating,  in  their  meagre,  pitiful  way, 
a  piece  of  bread,  a  bite  of  anything,  but  Prince  Karol 
fairly  beat  them  into  their  seats.  He  seemed  to  be  in  a 
passion  of  excitement  and  shock,  and  once  in  the  sledge, 
as  it  flew,  he  sat  huddled  in  his  furs,  never  speaking  to 
Crossdale,  but  showering  imprecations  and  curses  to  the 
horses  and  the  driver  and  the  postilion.  And  so  they  shot 
off  from  the  log  cabin,  through  the  light  of  the  rising  moon, 
faint  at  first,  and  as  they  left  the  forest  house,  they  saw  in 
the  doorway  the  wild-eyed  peasant  who  had  baked  the 
pancakes  for  the  Mighty  Lord,  standing  dazed  and  terri- 


124  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

fied,  with  a  dishcloth  over  one  arm  and  the  pancake  turner 
in  the  other.  The  treja  suddenly  drew  up  with  a  crash  and 
Stanislas  Korvan  flung  himself  off  a  horse  and  climbed  up 
onto  the  seat  with  the  driver. 

Suddenly  Karol  turned  violently  to  the  American.  "And 
the  Prince  Sarvan  has  disappeared — no  one  knows  where. 
If  there  is  a  Heaven  above  us  he  will  be  found!  This  is 
one  of  John  Sarvanarof's  diabolical  plots,  to  wipe  out  the 
succession  and  to  abduct  the  Queen.  But  Sarvan  will  be 
found — he  will  be  found." 

From  the  front  seat  where  he  sat,  Korvan's  breath  was 
visible  on  the  cold  air.  Without  turning  he  said  quietly: 
"The  Prince  Sarvan  has  not  been  seen  since  the  two  Princes 
went  off  together  into  the  forest  before  the  wolves  were 
sighted." 

The  Prime  Minister  huddled  in  his  coat.  But  Crossdale 
felt  no  more  part  of  the  moment  than  does  a  man 
on  a  street  corner  feel  a  part  of  the  newspaper  which  he  buys 
in  order  to  read  the  extra.  He  was  conscious  that  Karol 
was  murmuring  in  his  native  tongue,  and  the  American 
caught  the  word  "fratricide." 

Meanwhile  they  seemed  to  fly  through  the  moonlit  pines, 
with  the  moon's  shadows,  the  moon's  radiance,  playing 
down  on  them  like  water,  over  the  same  path  where  they 
had  all  come  so  gaily  in  the  dawn,  and  over  which  now  they 
would  drag  that  young  body  home. 

"It's  horrible,"  he  said  aloud,  "Perfectly  horrible!  It 
must  have  been  a  stray  shot  from — "  KaroPs  hard  laugh 
broke  in  on  him.  "A  hunting  accident — that's  a  plausible 
solution,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Crossdale?" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  125 

"Had  Prince  Paul  enemies?" 

"In  a  time  of  revolution  the  heir  to  the  throne  has 
enemies,  yes/'  said  the  Prime  Minister.  And  he  fairly 
screamed  at  the  driver:  "Mi  jal  Mi  ja!"  And  the  mujik 
threw  out  his  long  whip  over  the  four  horses,  crying  to 
them,  and  they  raced  with  the  moonlight  into  the  deepening 
night. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

CROSSDALE  PROVES  HIS  SPORTING  BLOOD 

"What  in  the  name  of  Mike  did  you  get  into  those  togs 
for,  Jeff?"  Crossdale  surveyed  his  man  servant  with  irrita- 
tion. It  mads  him  angry  to  think  that  Jeff  Robinson  should 
be  part  of  the  masquerade.  "I  want  you  to  go  to  your  room 
and  get  into  your  own  clothes.  I  don't  care  what  happens 
— you  get  out  of  those  things." 

The  negro,  who  was  laying  out  Crossdale's  clothes,  looked 
at  his  master  with  a  broad  grin.  "Boss,  dis  ain'  cibilization, 
but  ah  ain'  yet  seen  de  place  where  a  feller  can  go  out  in 
his  birfday  suit  an'  not  git  run  in  by  de  police." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Um — urn — de  first  night  when  we  got  here  ah  done 
fell  asleep  soon's  ah  hit  my  berth  and  ah  dare  say  ah  snored 
so  yuh  could  have  heard  me  from  de  tender  to  de  observa- 
tion car.  An'  believe  me,  Boss,  ah  never  woke  up  till  one 
ob  dese  damn  fool  natives  was  makin'  signs  ober  me  and 
when  ah  got  out  ob  bed  dere  wasn't  a  thing  but  dese  to 
put  on,  and  dere  ain'  nebber  bin  since,  not  a  ting." 

"You  mean  to  say  they  stole  your  clothes?" 

"Um — um."  Jeff's  expression  was  inimitable,  but  less 
smiling  and  quite  grave.  "Mister  Crossdale,  ah  sure  did 
have  to  come  to  dis  backwoods  to  fin'  out  how  ah  love  ma 
life,  and  believe  me,  Boss,  ah  ain'  goin'  to  lose  it  for  a  pair 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  127 

ob  pants."  Jeff  gave  a  glance  at  himself  in  the  mirror  and 
seemed  to  like  the  reflection.  He  certainly  had  the  negro's 
true  admiration  of  the  picturesque.  "Hones'  to  goodness. 
Boss,  dey  am'  so  bad.  What  do  you  wear,  Mister  Cross- 
dale,  for  goin'  out?"  The  man  was  a  refreshment  to 
Stephen.  Black  as  he  was,  he  was  the  only  bright  spot  in  his 
environment  and  a  great  relief  to  his  present  mental  state, 
and  Jeff's  expression  "going  out"  sounded  good  to  Cross- 
dale. 

Since  the  news  had  been  brought  to  them  in  the  cedar 
cabin  Prince  Karol  had  not  let  him  out  of  his  sight.  Whether 
it  was  intentional  or  not,  the  American  did  not  know.  All 
night  long,  until  the  following  morning,  they  had  waited 
together  in  the  living  room  for  the  arrival  of  the  cortege 
bringing  back  Prince  Paul's  body,  Karol's  excitement  con- 
tinuing. He  smoked  countless  cigarettes  and  drank  count- 
less cups  of  black  coffee  and  reka.  Over  at  a  small  table 
Lieutenant  Korvan  waited,  quiet,  grave,  serviceable,  watch- 
ing his  master's  mood,  transmitting  what  orders  could  be 
given,  for  there  was  neither  telegraph  nor  telephone  between 
the  Queen's  lodge  and  the  outer  world. 

But  Crossdale,  keeping  the  Prince  company,  as  he  was 
forced  to  do,  heard  the  sinister  orders  given  to  pursue  Prince 
Sarvan  all  over  the  realm,  to  the  Danube  and  beyond,  by 
every  possible  means,  by  messengers  and  dogs,  and  he 
understood  that  bloodhounds  would  be  placed  on  the  Prince's 
trail.  And  he  thought  to  himself:  "Please  God,  they'll 
never  get  him,  no  matter  whether  he's  guilty  or  not." 

Of  the  dogs  of  whom  he  had  grown  so  fond  only  one  was 
to  be  found.  When  he  finally  went  to  his  room,  he  saw 


128  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

Griffen  cringing  under  his  bed.  The  dog  dragged  himself 
whining  to  his  feet,  licking  them  and  fawning  upon  him. 

He  would  have  given  anything  in  the  world  to  have 
known  nothing  of  Prince  Sarvan's  affairs,  of  his  intended 
departure,  of  his  politics.  But  it  was  evident  that  the 
Prime  Minister  was  ignorant  that  he  was  anything  more 
than  an  ordinary  impersonal  spectator  of  an  internal 
tragedy,  and  talked  to  him  like  a  broken-hearted  father, 
telling  him  a  thousand  affectionate  things  of  the  young 
prince,  making  him  appear  a  martyr  and  a  young  god.  And 
finally  into  their  watch  came  the  notes  of  the  bugles,  bugles 
playing  solemnly  a  silver  dirge,  which  sounded  weird  and 
ghostly  on  the  hunting  horns. 

Stephen  Crossdale  stood  in  the  window  of  the  living  room 
whilst  Prince  Karol,  barehead,  went  out  on  to  the  porch 
where  the  light  of  morning  and  moonlight  met  and  blended. 
The  hunters  returned  on  foot  and  on  horseback,  and  in  the 
center  of  the  group  of  servants,  covered  by  hunting  cloaks 
and  furs,  borne  on  a  stretcher  made  of  young  pine  trees, 
Prince  Paul  came  back  from  the  hunt,  and  they  carried  in 
the  stretcher  and  put  it  down  on  a  space  which  had  been 
cleared  for  it  on  the  living  room  floor.  With  the  wailing 
and  crying  of  the  servitors  in  his  ears  and  the  exclamations 
of  the  Prince  as  he  kneeled  down  beside  the  stretcher,  Cross- 
dale  unobserved  left  the  room. 

"Dat  old  Bolshevist  ain'  nebber  goin'  to  let  us  git  out  ob 
here,  and  ah  ain'  goin'  any  furder  dan  de  front  door  till  ah 
gits  ma  ticket  paid  back  home  an'  dey  put  me  on  de  train." 
And  he  laughed  back  in  his  throat,  his  soft  Southern  gurgle. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  129 

"He's  got  our  number  all  right,  Mister  Crossdale." 

"Jeff,  you're  crazy!" 

The  negro  drew  near  to  him  and  dropped  his  voice.  To 
his  master  his  impressiveness  was  ludicrous,  in  his  present 
costume  of  high  boots,  white  trousers  and  embroidered 
jacket.  "Why,  Boss,"  he  said,  "dis  mornin'  ah  thought 
ah'd  go  out  an'  take  a  little  swim  in  de  pond  and  ah  hadn't 
got  much  furder  dan  de  yard  when  ah  saw  de  whole  place 
guarded  by  soldiers  all  dress  up  fer  war,  an'  a  line  ob  blood- 
hounds. Why,  ah  tell  yo',  ah  come  back  to  dis  house  on 
ma  tiptoes  like  ah  ain'  done  since  ah  use'  to  git  away  from 
ma  mammy  when  ah  wus  a  kid." 

"Why,  they  were  hunters,  and  those  were  the  dogs  of  the 
meet,  you  fool!"  But  the  negro  shook  his  head.  "Hunters, 
nothing,  Mister  Crossdale!  We're  frozen  in  solid  here,  an' 
we'll  be  lucky  if  we  ebber  thaw  out  in  de  spring." 

In  spite  of  himself  Crossdale  was  impressed.  "You  for- 
get we're  United  States'  citizens,  Jeff." 

And  Jefferson  Robinson  grinned  again.  "Ah  don'  for- 
get it,"  he  said.  "It  sounds  all  right  to  me,  an'  ah  keep 
sayin'  it  ober  to  myself  like  ah  say  ma  prayers,  but  right 
here  in  dese  backwoods,  ah  tell  you,  Mister  Crossdale,  ah 
don'  git  any  comfort  out  ob  either." 

At  this  moment  Prince  Karol  sent  for  the  engineer. 
Crossdale  gathered  himself  together  and  went  in  with  Jeffer- 
son Robinson's  words  in  his  mind:  "I  ain'  going  to  t'row  my 
life  away  for  a  pair  ob  pants." 

On  his  way  he  passed  the  open  door  of  the  room  where 
they  had  laid  the  late  heir  to  the  throne  in  state,  and  he  saw 
the  tall  candles  around  the  long  table  on  which  Prince  Paul 


130  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

lay.  Before  the  door  of  Prince  Karol's  private  apart- 
ment, which  the  American  had  not  yet  seen,  were  four 
Karmanian  soldiers  in  service  uniform;  they  presented  arms 
as  Crossdale  walked  in.  He  found  the  Prime  Minister  lying 
down  on  a  divan,  with  all  manner  of  light  refreshments 
and  drinks  around  him  and  a  cigarette  between  his  fingers. 
He  greeted  the  engineer  formally,  almost  as  if  he  had  been 
a  stranger. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Crossdale.  I  am  afraid  you  have  felt  your- 
self sadly  forgotten." 

"Of  no  importance  whatsoever,  your  Excellency,"  said  the 
American. 

"Everything  that  happens  to  a  guest  is  of  importance," 
said  the  Prime  Minister,  with  dignity.  "Korvan  goes  to 
Savia  tomorrow  to  arrange  for  the  funeral  of  Prince  Paul. 
You  will  go  in  with  him,  Mr.  Crossdale,  starting  at  dawn.  I 
cannot  be  your  companion,  as  I  had  planned  to  be,  when 
you  entered  the  capital.  I  remain  by  the  body  of  Prince 
Paul."  Here  the  Prime  Minister  put  his  hand  to  his  eyes. 
Before  the  American  could  speak,  he  continued:  "You  know 
that  Prince  Sarvan  has  disappeared?" 

"Yes." 

"We  are  scouring  the  country  for  him,"  said  the  Prime 
Minister,  "and  no  effort  will  be  spared  to  bring  him  back 
to  look  upon  the  body  of  his  brother."  He  looked  at  Cross- 
dale  keenly  and  added:  "I  speak  of  going  tomorrow  with 
Lieutenant  Korvan,  but  perhaps  you  would  prefer  to  return 
to  Tamaresk  and  let  us  take  up  the  question  of  civil  engi- 
neering when  our  country  is  a  little  more  settled?" 

Crossdale  met  Prince  Karol  squarely.     Even  should  he 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  131 

accept  this  proposition  he  felt  certain  that  the  Prime  Min- 
ister would  not  let  him  go  far  under  the  present  conditions. 

He  said  quietly:  "I'm  on  my  job,  your  Excellency. 
Because  your  Prince  has  unfortunately  been  killed,  it  does 
not  mean  that  an  American  civil  engineer  has  anything  to 
fear,  either  from  the  unrest  of  the  country  or  from  other 
reasons." 

Prince  Karol  put  out  his  hand.  "Excellent!  I  thought 
you'd  say  that.  I  told  you  in  the  cedar  cabin  that  you  were 
a  good  sport,  Mr.  Crossdale." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CROSSDALE   SEES    A    SCREEN    PICTURE 

The  next  morning  Jeff  woke  him  on  the  nick  of  four,  with 
the  science  of  a  man  accustomed  to  waking  sleepers  in  their 
berths  without  disturbing  the  whole  car.  "Boss,"  in  a  voice 
as  gentle  as  a  woman's  and  as  determined,  "four  o'clock, 
Mister  Crossdale,  suh." 

Crossdale  stretched  and  yawned.  "I  could  sleep  for  ten 
years!"  He  made  his  toilet  and  drank  his  coffee  by  candle 
light,  for  it  was  dark  in  this  heart  of  the  forest.  His  suit- 
cases were  packed  and  ready  to  go  into  the  interior  with 
him,  not  out.  He  was  penetrating  further  and  further  into 
his  Adventure.  Jeff  Robinson's  appearance  this  morning 
appeared  to  him  too  comical  to  be  funny.  In  his  tarbush 
and  livery  he  waited  to  further  cover  himself  with  a  wolf- 
skin motor-coat. 

"Jeff,  I  want  you  to  go  and  get  your  own  outfit — under- 
stand?" The  negro  almost  paled. 

"When  we  start  away  from  here  at  six  I  want  to  see  you 
in  your  own  clothes."  Crossdale  had  no  intention  of  play- 
ing father  to  the  darky's  love  of  costume.  He  did  not  want 
a  Karmanian  slave;  he  wanted  his  own  man  servant  in 
American  clothes,  and  he  wanted  him  quick  and  he  was 
going  to  have  him.  He  knocked  the  ashes  off  his  cigarette 
into  the  saucer  of  the  cup,  and  after  Jeff  had  left  him  gave 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  133 

thanks,  as  he  had  done  many  times  during  the  war,  that  he 
was  alone  in  the  world  when  he  took  chances  like  these.  He 
could  not  think  of  any  other  advantages  of  being  without 
relations. 

It  was  growing  lighter  every  second.  He  got  up  and  went 
over  to  the  window  and  looked  out  toward  the  approach  of 
the  lodge,  and  he  saw,  coming  noiselessly  over  the  deep  car- 
pet of  the  pine  needles,  four  horses  galloping,  horses  with 
their  outriders;  he  watched  them  draw  up  to  the  lodge  and 
the  postilions  fling  themselves  off  and  stand  stiffly.  The 
morning  was  still  too  dark  for  him  to  see  distinctly,  but  a 
treja  was  before  the  door  and  a  woman  alone  in  it,  wrapped 
up  to  the  chin  in  furs.  Before  he  could  fully  appreciate  how 
strange  it  was  to  see  a  woman  here  she  had  left  the  sledge 
and  flashed  to  the  porch,  the  servants  gathering  about  her. 
There  was  no  voice,  no  sound,  merely  a  swift  entrance  and 
an  unbroken  silence,  cut  into  soon  after  by  the  whinnying 
of  the  stallions.  Crossdale  stepped  back  from  the  window 
quickly,  guilty  as  a  boy  who  has  had  a  peep  into  a  show 
for  which  he  had  not  paid  his  ticket.  It  had  all  been  as 
quick  as  a  screen  picture,  and  as  silent.  He  had  a  dim 
impression  that  she  was  tall,  veiled,  and  he  felt  certain  that 
she  must  be  the  Queen. 

It  was  of  course  possible  that  Prince  Paul  had  a  wife  and 
that  she  had  been  sent  for.  It  might  be  any  woman  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Karmania — no  doubt  there  were  other  women; 
but  he  never  thought  of  any  of  them,  only  of  the  Queen  and 
her  sister.  He  had  no  time,  however,  to  wonder  further, 
for  Jeff  was  back  with  two  of  the  house  servants,  his  valises 
were  carried  out  and  he  followed  them. 


134  THE    QUEEN    OF  KARMANIA 

The  night  before  Prince  Karol  had  bidden  him  bon  voyage, 
telling  him  that  he  would  see  him  in  Savia,  and  there  was 
nothing  for  the  American  to  do  now  but  to  go  as  expedi- 
tiously  as  possible,  without  making  any  further  demands  on 
the  royal  hospitality.  All  the  servants  of  the  lady  who  had 
just  arrived  had  disappeared;  the  treja  had  gone. 

Stanislas  waited  by  their  treja,  ready  for  departure. 
As  Crossdale  got  in,  and  they  drove  off  together  to  the 
jangling  and  tinkling  and  clashing  and  smashing  of  the 
bells,  he  looked  back  at  the  royal  lodge,  before  it  was  cur- 
tained off  by  the  cedars  and  the  pines.  It  had  a  new 
significance  to  him  now.  It  had  been  full  of  charm  when 
he  came  to  it;  now  it  was  full  of  tragedy,  with  the  dead 
Prince  lying  there  in  the  light  of  the  tall  candles,  and  full 
of  fascination  as  well,  because  of  the  silent  arrival  of  the 
woman  whom  he  believed  to  be  the  Queen. 


CHAPTER  XV 

— AND  SEES  THE  CAPITAL  FROM  THE   HEIGHTS 

Captain  Stanislas  Korvan  was  the  most  serviceable  piece 
of  goods  he  had  seen  unrolled  before  him  since  he  came  to 
these  parts!  There  was  no  apparent  mystery  about  Korvan. 
Practical,  active,  up-to-date,  modern,  and  as  far  as  Cross- 
dale  could  judge,  honest,  he  was  an  agreeable  man  of  the 
world.  By  the  time  they  had  climbed  together  the  west- 
ern face  of  Mount  Nepta  Crossdale  felt  that  Stanislas  Kor- 
van was  "all  right,"  and  it  was  a  comfortable  feeling;  like 
finding  one  satisfactory  solid  armchair  in  a  room  full  of 
good  looking  objects  in  which  you  did  not  place  any  too 
much  confidence.  Stanislas  was  a  comfortable  sort  of  man 
to  have  round  and  he  was  alive  on  the  topics  in  which  the 
American  was  interested. 

They  had  begun  the  ascent  of  the  mountain  in  the  bullock 
carts  of  which  Caleb  Storm  had  spoken  to  Stephen  in  San 
Francisco;  mounting  at  a  snail's  pace  in  the  wooden  sleds 
of  the  country  behind  four  snow-white  oxen,  ever  upward 
into  fresher,  cooler,  more  rarified  air,  until  the  paths  grew 
too  narrow  for  the  sleds,  and  mules  had  met  them,  carry- 
ing them  ever  higher,  Korvan  ahead,  Crossdale  following, 
and  Jefferson  Robinson,  at  home  for  the  first  time  on  mule- 
back  and  in  his  own  clothes. 

Toward  the  last  ascent,  when  they  had  rounded  their 


136  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

abyss  and  looked  back  to  see  the  interminable  blackness  of 
the  forests  lying  far,  far  behind  them,  and  before  them 
the  sheer  rock  and  the  encroaching  snow,  when  they  had 
seen  the  pin-speck  in  the  dim  distance  that  was  Cye,  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  far-off  sea  that  was  the  steppes; 
when  they  had  seen  these  from  a  height  of  six  thousand 
feet,  their  mules  turned  tail  and  went  back  with  their 
drivers.  And  with  Korvan  and  a  couple  of  mountaineers, 
Stephen  and  Jeff  bringing  up  the  rear,  they  finished  the 
ascent  on  foot  to  the  hut  on  the  most  accessible  peak  of 
Mount  Nepta. 

Stanislas  Korvan  had  given  the  choice  to  Crossdale  when 
they  left  the  bullocks,  either  to  go  over  by  an  easy  pass  on 
mule  back,  the  path  over  which  the  funeral  cortege  of  Prince 
Paul  would  go  into  Savia,  or  to  make  the  ascension,  and  the 
American  had  chosen,  as  he  expressed  it  to  Korvan,  "to  go 
the  whole  hog."  They  had  begun  to  climb  at  six  a.  m.  and 
by  four,  before  sundown,  they  had  reached  the  mountain  hut 
where  they  were  to  pass  the  night  on  the  summit  of  Mount 
Nepta.  When  Korvan  had  finished  his  frugal  supper,  when 
they  had  lit  their  pipes,  the  old  mountaineer  who  had  served 
them  withdrew  to  the  fireplace  to  bank  up  the  logs.  The 
snow  without  was  up  to  the  very  doors.  The  climb  had 
enthused  and  invigorated  Crossdale. 

"What  a  life  the  open  offers,  Korvan!  I've  got  a  little  old 
ranch  not  far  from  San  Francisco — I  won't  bore  you  telling 
about  it,  but  you  must  come  out  and  see  it  one  of  these  days." 
With  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  beer  mug  between  his 
hands,  Crossdale  felt  kindly  and  warmly  to  every  one. 
They  had  eaten  goat's  milk  cheese  and  drunk  the  country's 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  137 

hard  ale.  He  felt  the  blood  bite  in  his  cheeks  and  run  hot 
in  his  veins;  he  was  tingling  with  life.  The  grand  exercise 
put  him  at  his  best.  "By  George,  Korvan,  when  the  tunnel 
goes  through,  only  mad  mountain  climbers  will  do  this  stunt! 
Gad,  that's  what  happens  in  civilization — so  many  good 
things  go." 

Korvan  shrugged.  "That  won't  bother  me.  I  am  all  for 
progress.  I  was  born  in  Karmania,  but  I  have  been  all 
about,  and  now  the  dream  of  my  life  is — "  he  paused  a 
moment — "America." 

He  said  this  with  much  sincerity.  He,  too,  was  stimulated 
by  the  wonderful  journey.  The  two  men  were  growing  closer 
together  all  the  time.  Crossdale  wanted  thoroughly  to  believe 
in  this  man;  he  would  have  to  have  some  one  colleague  in 
this  far-away  place.  "Come  along,"  he  said  cheerily.  "I  will 
show  you  all  over  California." 

"Ranching,"  said  Korvan,  "isn't  a  bit  what  I  want 
though,  Crossdale.  I  would  like  to  go  on  in  your  profession, 
civil  engineering.  Do  you  think  there  would  be  any  kind  of 
opening  for  a  chap  like  me?"  Korvan  was  so  serious  that 
Crossdale  was  surprised. 

"But,"  he  said,  "you  have  got  a  good  berth  in  the  cabinet 
of  the  Prime  Minister.  What  more  do  you  want?" 

"Oh,  it's  a  good  berth  all  right,"  said  Korvan,  "excellent!" 
He  looked  down  at  the  bowl  of  his  pipe.  "You  saw  how 
quickly  I  got  my  promotion  to  first  secretary,  didn't  you, 
Crossdale?  His  Excellency  moved  one  pawn." 

Crossdale  nodded.   "The  favor  of  princes — eh?" 

"I  am  a  modern  man;  I  belong  to  the  twentieth  century," 
said  the  other.  "If  the  twentieth  century  doesn't  do  a  little 


138  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

reaping  here  in  Karmania,  why,  I  think  I'll  emigrate." 

Abruptly  Crossdale  asked  him  a  question.  He  could 
not  help  it;  it  suddenly  came  to  him.  "Did  you  ever  have 
much  to  do  with  the  former  Prime  Minister?" 

The  young  man  blushed.  "My  relations  have  always  been 
with  Prince  Karol."  Perfunctorily  he  changed  the  subject. 

But  Crossdale  was  embarked  on  dangerous  subjects.  He 
was  losing  a  little  bit  his  balance  up  here  in  the  heights. 
"Look  here,  Korvan — the  Queen  came  to  the  royal  lodge, 
didn't  she,  about  twenty  minutes  before  we  got  away?"  At 
the  other's  open-mouthed  astonishment,  the  American  con- 
tinued: "Oh,  you  needn't  trouble  to  lie  about  it — I  saw  her 
arrive.  It  was  a  silent,  unobstrusive  entrance  for  the  ruler 
of  a  Kingdom.  Now,  come  on,  Korvan,"  Stephen  asked 
eagerly,  with  boyish  curiosity,  "it  was  the  Queen,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Korvan.  "She  came,  of  course,  because  of  the 
assassination  of  the  Prince.  She  must  have  flown  from 
Pratz-Zenoe.  And  when  his  Excellency  told  her  she  just 
sat  down  by  the  table  where  we  were  all  gathered,  put  her 
face  in  her  hands  and  cried  like  a  little  girl." 

"Poor  dear,"  said  Crossdale,  gently.  And  all  of  a  sudden 
the  Queen  of  Karmania  became  a  woman  in  his  thought,  not 
just  a  picture  book  thing  with  a  ruined  old  capital  around 
her  and  an  uncertain  sceptre  in  her  hand.  "Poor — "  and  he 
did  not  quite  know  what  noun  to  use,  and  said,  "Poor  girl! " 

"They  were  playmates,  the  Princes  and  herself,  brought 
up  together,"  said  the  First  Secretary,  "and  although  she 
never  cared  very  much  for  Paul,  they  were  friends." 

Crossdale,  as  the  Karmanian  spoke,  seemed  to  see  her 
sitting  there  in  the  beautiful  fur  coat,  crying  into  her  hands 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  139 

— into  her  gloves,  perhaps,  if  she  had  not  taken  them  off, 
just  like  a  mere  woman  would.  "They  won't  do  a  thing  to 
Prince  Sarvan,  will  they,  if  they  get  him,  Korvan?" 

But  the  other  did  not  answer  as  quickly  as  Crossdale 
expected.  "Prince  Sarvan  has  a  lucky  star,"  he  said  slowly, 
"and  the  Queen  is  very  fond  of  him.  It  would  be  hard  to 
conceive  of  Sarvan  and  death  together,  Crossdale." 

But  Korvan  retired  into  a  shell  of  reserve;  he  looked  so 
thoughtfully  and  so  penetratingly  at  his  companion  over 
the  red  table,  with  the  beer  mugs  and  the  remains  of  their 
little  supper,  that  Crossdale  thought  to  himself:  "Now  this 
damned  old  spy  work  is  beginning  on  me,  and  I'm  blamed 
if  I  open  my  mouth  about  any  of  their  affairs  at  the  point  of 
a  pistol!"  He  looked  over  toward  the  fire,  where  Jeff  on  a 
stool  was  propped  up  against  the  wall,  his  arms  folded,  his 
eyes  shut,  dropping  into  dreamland. 

The  American  rose.  "I  guess  I'll  turn  into  that  hole  in  the 
wall,  Korvan,  and  get  some  sleep." 

"Good,"  said  the  First  Secretary.  "And  I'll  turn  into  the 
other  hole  in  the  wall." 

Before  he  rolled  himself  up  in  his  blanket,  Crossdale 
waked  up  Jefferson  Robinson  and  told  him  to  take  the  third 
bunk,  and  he  thought  to  himself  before  he  dozed  off:  "I 
thought  I  was  up  here  with  two  friends,  but  I'm  only  sure 
that  the  black  man  is  white." 

Just  before  sundown  on  the  following  day  they  had  nearly 
finished  their  descent,  and  Crossdale  at  last  looked  over  the 
plains  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  to  Savia.  The  view 
was  superb.  All  the  sides  of  the  range  were  wooded  densely 


140  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

to  the  rocks,  softening,  paling  at  the  base  into  a  verdant 
colorful  valley,  warm  and  soft  and  beautiful  in  the  Septem- 
ber hues  of  blue  and  rich  warm  green.  He  could  see  the 
stacked  corn  fields;  he  could  see  little  groups  of  white  stucco 
houses  with  dark  roofs;  a  church  dome  here  and  there. 

Stanislas,  clinging  to  his  arm,  pointed:  "Do  you  see  that 
pencil  line?  That's  the  run  of  the  road,  that's  the  railroad, 
Crossdale — our  road — your  road."  Alongside  it  Crossdale 
could  distinguish  workmen's  shanties  and  the  outlines  of 
his  buildings. 

But  all  the  fertile  valley,  tiny  villages,  the  glassy  flash 
of  a  wide  stream  and  the  milky  rushing  and  churning  of  a 
mountain  river — even  the  line  of  the  road  which  had  brought 
him  from  California  to  Karmania — all  was  nothing  but  a 
foreground  to  the  hill  city  on  which  he  felt  his  eyes  could 
rest  forever.  Abruptly  out  of  this  rich  and  fertile  plain 
rose  one  of  those  curious  earthy  phenomena  that  mark  the 
mountainous  regions  of  Central  Europe:  a  little  mountain, 
an  overgrown  hill,  like  a  sugar  loaf,  high  and  pointed.  And 
tumbling  down  it,  falling  all  over  it,  little  old  brown  houses 
the  color  of  the  earth  itself,  the  houses  of  the  mediaeval  city 
of  Savia.  And  out  of  the  soft  brown  mass,  as  though  it 
bloomed,  rose  the  turrets  and  the  towers  and  the  walls  of  the 
castle,  a  fairy  castle  with  flags  flying  at  half  mast.  One 
by  one,  as  though  they  were  stars,  the  lights  began  to  bloom 
and  blossom  in  those  far-off  windows;  to  bloom  and  blossom 
and  shine  and  glow,  until  at  nightfall  it  was  like  looking 
upon  a  blazing  jewel,  a  glowing,  glowing  gem,  when  the  hill 
town  was  lit,  window  after  window  with  its  home  light,  and 
the  castle  like  a  shining  star.  "That  is  Savia,"  Crossdale 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  141 

heard  the  voice  of  Stanislas  at  his  side  say.  And  Crossdale 
cleared  his  throat  and  answered:  "Yes.  I'm  glad  I've  seen 
it — it  is  worth  the  journey."  He  knew  why  the  flags  were 
flying  at  half  mast — because  the  heir  to  the  throne  had 
been — murdered  or  killed,  and  the  Queen  was  absent. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

CROSSDALE  IS  IN   HIS  BROWN  TOWER 

Crossdale  was  not  King  in  one  of  the  castles  which  had 
attracted  him  from  the  Danube  boat,  but  he  had  a  neat  little 
dungeon  of  his  own,  a  neat  little  turret;  and  he  thought  that 
he  ought  to  have  gone  into  it  in  irons  in  order  to  have  been 
properly  in  the  picture.  Here  he  was,  rising  up  out  of  the 
Karmanian  plains,  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  the  city  walls. 
He  looked  out  from  a  round  brown  tower,  whose  stones  had 
been  put  together  nine  hundred  years  before. 

"Korvan,"  he  had  said  to  his  guide,  when  Lieutenant  Kor- 
van  had  handed  over  the  keys  of  the  brown  tower,  "I  want 
to  tell  you  that  if  this  was  the  dug-out  they  gave  Baum- 
garten,  you  need  not  try  to  wish  it  on  to  me,  for  I'm  not 
going  inside." 

But  it  appeared  that  Mr.  Baumgarten  and  the  rest  of  his 
staff  had  put  up  at  a  hotel  within  the  city  walls,  and  the 
charming  old  ruin  which  was  allotted  to  Crossdale  for  his 
occupation  during  his  stay  in  Karmania  was  an  especial 
possession  of  the  Prime  Minister.  Prince  Karol  used  it  for 
a  studio,  and  for  some  extraordinary  reason  he  had  handed 
it  over  to  the  American  engineer. 

When  Crossdale  had  been  in  it  a  week  he  found  it  fas- 
cinating from  all  points  of  view.  He  went  round  in  it — he 
could  not  do  anything  else  in  a  round  tower — like  a  dog 
settling  down  in  a  new  home.  North,  east,  south  and  west 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  143 

he  could  view  the  country,  and  see  the  jewel-like  city  of 
Savia  rising  on  its  sky-touching  hill. 

There  were  only  three  comfortable  rooms  hi  the  tower,  his 
study,  a  bedroom,  and  Jeff  Robinson's  kitchen,  incongru- 
ously opening  from  Crossdale's  sanctum.  On  a  table  covered 
with  a  rich  green  cloth,  Crossdale  had  set  out  his  traps. 
Prince  Karol  had  given  him  ten  days  in  which  to  consider 
his  decision  regarding  the  undertaking  of  the  contracts.  He 
had  an  appointment  with  the  Prince  for  the  next  day. 

Prince  Paul  had  been  laid  away  in  the  mausoleum  of  his 
ancestors.  Crossdale  had  watched  the  funeral  cortege  pass 
his  windows.  The  procession  was  a  picturesque  one  and 
more  than  usually  effective  as  he  learned  it  was  not  Kar- 
manian  custom  to  go  into  mourning  for  death — and,  indeed, 
the  colors  worn  by  the  mourners  were  more  brilliant  than 
usual.  He  discovered  that  in  Karmania  a  person  dead  was, 
if  not  forgotten,  certainly  not  kept  in  the  public  eye,  and 
events  went  on  as  usual.  He  looked  long  at  the  dignified 
and  impressive  group  of  people.  Amongst  those  walking 
humbly  behind  the  bier  was  Prince  Karol,  in  full-dress 
uniform,  holding  a  cross  against  his  breast.  There  were 
many  women  in  the  procession  on  foot  and  as  they  were  all 
veiled,  their  faces  and  heads  completely  hidden,  he  only 
supposed  that  he  saw  the  Queen  of  Karmania  and  her  sister 
among  the  others,  but  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  rank  or 
royal  state. 

From  another  window  he  could  look  out  on  the  one-track 
road  of  the  railway,  the  rails  rusty,  weeds  and  grass  grow- 
ing between  the  few  ties.  It  went  as  far  as  the  open  mouth 
of  the  tunnel  and  stopped  short.  This  was  the  only  evidence 


144  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

that  the  Kingdom  of  Karmania  was  on  its  way  toward 
progress  by  the  means  of  steam  and  steel. 

In  spite  of  the  strangeness  and  the  fact  that  he  was  not 
yet  acclimated,  Crossdale  was  thoroughly  enjoying  the 
work,  and  in  his  part  of  the  house  Jeff  Robinson  was  nearer 
being  a  king  than  he  ever  would  be  again  hi  his  life.  He  had 
constituted  himself  man-of-all-work  for  Crossdale  and  under 
him  he  had  two  native  servants.  Crossdale  had  refused 
to  allow  him  to  annex  more  than  these.  Robinson  had  a 
negro's  love  for  pomp  and  power  and  it  was  "nuts"  to  him 
to  assert  authority.  He  lorded  it  and  kinged  it  over  the 
mild,  humble  Karmanians,  who  had  been  brought  up  in 
hardship,  with  blows  more  common  than  daily  bread.  Cross- 
dale  had  an  eye  on  his  companion,  and  was  watching  him 
with  anxiety  as  Jeff  Robinson  rapidly  lost  his  head. 

Since  his  arrival  ten  days  before  no  post  had  come  for 
him.  He  had  determined  that  come  what  would,  he  was 
going  to  have  his  letters,  if  he  had  to  go  up  to  the  castle  and 
demand  them  from  the  Queen  I 

Outside  the  round  tower  the  September  day  was  as  clear 
as  glass,  as  fresh  as  fresh  water,  and  Crossdale  could  hear 
in  the  kitchen  beyond  the  rich  tones  of  Jeff  Robinson's  voice. 
One  reason  that  he  had  abducted  Jeff  Robinson  was  because 
of  the  man's  true,  musical  gift.  Now  Jeff  was  singing,  just 
so  loudly  that  he  could  hear  it  agreeably: 

"When  you  come  to  the  end  of  a  perfect  day." 

Crossdale  heard  the  verse  through.  Jeff  was  preparing 
lunch.  Every  now  and  then  he  gave  the  Karmanians  their 
heads  in  regard  to  cooking,  but  a  great  deal  of  the  time 
he  did  it  all  himself. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  145 

Crossdale  thought  to  himself:  "Oh,  a  perfect  day's  all 
right,  but  in  order  to  make  it  so  a  man  should  not  spend  it 
alone." 

"When  you  come  to  the  end  of  a  perfect  day." 

Crossdale  caught  up  a  book  and  heaved  it  against  the 
kitchen  door.  In  a  second  it  opened  and  Jeff  Robinson 
stuck  in  his  head.  Jeff's  passion  for  costuming  was  at  its 
height  in  Karmania.  He  had  constructed  himself  a  white 
cap,  which  gave  him  the  air  of  a  first-class  colored  chef. 

"Yo'  call,  boss?" 

"Shut  that  everlasting  noise." 

"Yes,  suh,  Mister  Crossdale.  I  just  tossin'  up — " 

"Well,  toss  up  and  shut  up! "  Jeff  got  out  and  very  softly 
closed  the  door  on  his  master's  black  humor. 

A  judge  of  human  character  and  of  men's  natures  could 
not  have  looked  at  Crossdale  and  heard  him  talk  without 
understanding  what  a  fund  of  feeling  and  capacity  for  loving 
lay  within  his  deep  nature.  His  mother  had  been  an  Irish 
woman,  and  he  had  her  wit  and  her  imaginative  sentiment. 
His  father  had  been  pure  New  England,  back  as  far  as  New 
England  can  trace  its  history,  and  he  had  his  father's  poise 
and  common  sense  and  level-headedness. 

"Karmania  is  made  up  of  Prime  Ministers  and  half- 
breeds  and  spies!  Darn  these  monarchies!  In  any  good  old 
republic  a  woman  or  two  would  walk  around  underneath 
these  windows." 

He  had  seen  already  some  of  the  native  women,  in  little 
bright  groups,  washing  linen  in  the  flowing  stream;  seen 
their  fine  brown  arms  plunged  hi  the  water;  and  he  had 
seen  groups  of  villagers  dancing  the  national  whirra  to  the 


146  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

music  of  the  weird,  characteristic  instruments.  The  broad- 
breasted,  lithe  women,  with  their  magnetic  eyes  and  smooth 
brows,  looked  as  though  no  care  had  ever  come  their  way, 
as  though  they  only  cared  to  sing  and  dance  and  whirl  under 
the  light  of  the  September  stars.  The  most  attractive  and 
characteristic  of  all  the  figures  was  the  mad  close  of  the 
dance,  when  the  woman,  after  dancing  alone,  flings  herself 
with  a  cry  on  the  breast  of  the  man  she  chooses. 

His  job  interested  him,  and  as  well  it  interested  him  most 
tremendously  to  know  that  in  the  course  of  events  he 
was  going  to  see  in  flesh  and  blood  the  woman  whose  picture 
he  had  in  his  portfolio  in  San  Francisco.  He  had  been  wait- 
ing for  a  propitious  moment  in  which  he  could  speak  to 
Stanislas  Korvan  and  ask  him  further  details  about  the 
royal  family. 

Stanislas  Korvan  had  taken  him  to  one  of  those  evening 
dances  on  the  edge  of  a  vineyard,  and  he  had  told  him  that 
the  Karmanian  women  were  the  most  beautiful  in  Central 
Europe.  He  could  believe  it,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  the 
Queen  up  there  in  her  inaccessible  castle  had  anything  on 
these  humble  sisters  of  hers  in  the  vineyards  and  the  corn 
fields,  and  bending  over  their  linen  in  the  stream. 

"She  must  be  stupid,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "to  be  a 
Queen,  anyway,  in  these  times,  and  if  she  isn't  she  ought 
to  change  the  customs  that  permit  a  Prime  Minister  to  slap 
his  servants  in  the  face." 

He  was  ready  to  find  fault  with  anything,  from  within  in 
the  kitchen  to  the  Queen  in  her  palace.  He  called  in  one  of 
the  native  servants,  who  because  he  spoke  some  English 
had  been  designated  for  his  service.  "Serga,  I  want  my 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  147 

letters  from  the  United  States,  and  I'd  like  you  to  go  to 
Lieutenant  Korvan  and  tell  him  so.  You  tell  him  for  me 
that  if  I  don't  get  my  post  by  tomorrow,  I'm  going  to  walk 
out  of  the  kingdom.  Tell  him  that,"  he  said,  and  the  man 
bowed  as  low  as  Crossdale  would  permit  him,  for  the 
American  had  made  his  servants  cut  their  salutations  short 
by  a  foot.  He  wondered  grimly  afterwards  how  much  the 
man  had  understood. 

He  took  his  cap  and  stick,  filled  his  pockets  with  cigar- 
ettes and  left  his  round  tower  room  by  another  door.  At 
the  door  he  met  the  Karmanian  servant,  who  was  starting 
off  obediently  with  the  message,  and  the  man  said:  "His 
Excellency  will  not  go  out  of  the  prescribed  limits?"  The 
only  response  that  Crossdale  vouchsafed  was:  "Hell!" 


CHAPTER    XVII 

— AND    THE    QUEEN    WAS    IN    HER    PARLOR 

The  Queen  was  in  her  parlor,  not  eating  bread  and  honey, 
but  preparing  to  give  attention  to  public  affairs.  As  she 
faced  her  Prime  Minister,  she  had  neither  sceptre  nor  crown 
to  indicate  her  royal  estate,  only  a  tennis  racquet  in  her 
hand.  Prince  Karol,  who  had  not  seen  her  since  her  return 
from  Paris  and  his  return  from  the  interior  of  the  country, 
laid  down  on  the  table  between  them  a  pile  of  serious  look- 
ing documents.  "These  are  for  your  signature,  Your 
Majesty." 

He  saw  at  once  that  the  Queen  was  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement,  under  the  sway  of  strong  feeling.  "Your 
Excellency,  I  have  sent  for  you  to  ask  you  immediately  to 
issue  a  proclamation  giving  the  Prince  Sarvan  free  entry 
into  the  Kingdom." 

She  tapped  the  table  lightly  with  the  handle  of  the  tennis 
racquet  as  Prince  Karol  ventured:  "A  Queen  must  not  per- 
mit personal  emotions  to  influence  her  duty." 

"Stop!  I  command  you!"  He  bowed,  and  when  she 
spoke  again  she  was  trying  to  command  her  anger. 

"Sarvan  is  as  innocent  of  the  death  of  his  brother  as  you 
are — as  I  am — "  she  looked  at  him  steadily  " — as,  for 
example,  this  strange  American  who  has  just  arrived,  I 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  149 

understand.  But  to  attribute  fratricide  to  Sarvan  is  a 
crime."  She  met  her  Prime  Minister's  eyes  fully. 

"A  trial  alone  will  clear  him  of  guilt,"  said  Prince  Karol. 
"And  at  all  events,  he  is  a  dangerous  rebel." 

Queen  Karmen  Mara  clapped  her  hands  together  and  to 
the  servant  who  answered  this  Karmanian  form  of  sum- 
mons she  said:  "Ask  Captain  Refan  Ugo  to  come  here  at 
once." 

Ugo,  who  had  been  waiting  in  the  antechamber,  came 
in  immediately,  pale  as  ashes,  slavish,  making  first  a  pro- 
found salutation  to  his  Sovereign  and  then  to  the  Prime 
Minister. 

"What  news  have  you  of  the  Prince  Sarvan?" 

"Your  Majesty,  that  he  is  still  in  the  kingdom." 

"If  you  pursue  him,  you  will  do  so  against  my  express 
command.  We  will  issue  a  proclamation  today  giving  him 
the  freedom  of  his  country.  Why  do  you  look  at  his  Excel- 
lency— why  don't  you  look  at  me,  Refan  Ugo?" 

"Your  Majesty,"  murmured  the  spy,  "the  orders  are 
uncompromising  regarding  the  pursuit  of  the  Prince." 

Queen  Karmen  Mara  sprang  from  her  chair.  She  walked 
up  and  down  the  room,  then  came  back,  stood  before  her 
uncle,  who  had  not  moved. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "I  beg  for  all  our  sakes  that 
you  will  control  your  excitement.  Parliament  meets  at 
four.  Whatever  orders  the  Kingdom  judges  best  to  give 
will  be  given  from  Parliament.  Refan  Ugo,  the  Queen  will 
be  glad  if  you  will  retire." 

On  either  side  of  the  Queen  stood  two  great  boar  hounds. 
She  was  very  pale,  and  her  black  hair,  clear  eyebrows  and 


150  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

dark  lashes  accentuated  the  pallor  of  the  fresh  young  face. 
She  wound  a  hand  in  the  collar  of  each  dog. 

"I  see  I  am  a  prisoner  in  my  own  Kingdom.  You  are  too 
autocratic,  your  Excellency." 

The  Prime  Minister  lifted  his  head  and  looked  her  very 
sternly  in  the  eyes.  Captain  Refan  Ugo  had  withdrawn. 
In  a  well  modulated  voice  the  Prime  Minister  said:  "Your 
Majesty,  you  would  wish  then  to  see  Karmania  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  Russia?" 

"Rather  not!" 

"We  are  within  eight  miles  of  the  Russian  border — " 

"I  know." 

"We  believe  that  Prince  John  Sarvanarof  is  feeding  his 
rebel  troops  from  the  Soviets.  We  have  been  unable  to  pre- 
vent an  infiltration  of  Bolshevism,  even  with  our  excellent 
spy  system.  Let  me  implore  you — have  you  any  confidence 
in  your  Prime  Minister  and  in  your  Parliament?" 

"You  know  that  I  have." 

"Red  peril  will  run  riot  in  Karmania  when  John  Sarvan- 
arof is  triumphant." 

The  Queen  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  She  tapped  the 
back  of  one  of  her  hands  against  her  beautiful  eyes.  He 
had  impressed  her.  The  color  came  back  to  her  cheeks. 

"I  am  fond  of  Sarvan,  you  know!" 

Prince  Karol  bowed.  "I  appreciate  the  fact.  But  personal 
affections  and  personal  sympathies  cannot,  must  not,  sway 
you  now,  Karmen  Mara.  He  is  a  wild  spirit,  a  revolutionary 
fanatic.  He  merits  neither  your  forgiveness  nor  your 
mercy."  He  saw  her  lip  tremble.  "We  were  great  friends," 
she  murmured,  "we  were  playmates." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  151 

"Come,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  rising  and  going  over 
and  taking  her  hand,  which  he  lifted  to  his  lips.  "Be  rea- 
sonable. You  will  be  present  at  the  session  of  Parliament 
this  afternoon,  and  we  will  discuss  the  ways  and  means  to 
protect  our  Kingdom.  Come,  let's  talk  of  something  else." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  and  shook  her  head ;  then  became, 
according  to  one  of  her  many  sudden  transitions,  a  girl 
again,  bewitching,  charming.  She  seated  herself  on  the 
edge  of  the  table,  with  the  tennis  racquet  across  her  knees, 
and  she  might  have  been  any  healthy  young  woman  in  from 
a  game  of  tennis  on  a  fine  September  morning. 

"Now,  Uncle  Karol,  tell  me  all  about  this  American  engi- 
neer." 

The  Prime  Minister  was  delighted  at  her  transition.  If 
he  could  once  gain  her  complete  acquiescence  for  the  sum- 
mary handling  of  the  seditious  young  Prince,  he  would  be 
fortunate. 

"You  mean,  tell  you  all  about  the  resumption  of  labor 
on  the  Royal  State  Railroad?" 

The  Queen  shrugged.  "After  all,  he  is  the  storage  battery, 
isn't  he?  They  say  he  has  arrived  in  the  capital  with  a  negro 
minstrel."  She  laughed.  The  Prime  Minister,  whom  she 
always  amused,  took  a  chair  near  her  and  looked  at  her  with 
indulgent  affection. 

"What  sort  of  a  person  is  he?" 

"Good  sort,  rather  a  gentleman." 

"How  horrible!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  would  prefer  an  out- 
and-out  savage!  After  all,  breeding  isn't  indispensable  to 
the  building  of  a  proper  tunnel." 

"But  if  you  have  business  dealings  with  a  person,  it  is 


152  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

nice  to  be  able  to  talk  at  ease  with  them.  Mr.  Crossdale  is 
an  all-round  sport,  at  all  events." 

"How  did  you  discover  that  between  Las  Restaurus  and 
the  capital?" 

"He  shot  his  wolves,"  the  Prime  Minister  listed  Cross- 
dale  comfortably,  uhe  rides;  he  was  dignified  and  satisfac- 
tory during  our  sorrow."  Here  the  Prime  Minister  crossed 
himself,  and  the  Queen  did  the  same,  bowing  her  head.  "And 
he  was  quite  up  to  the  mark  in  coming  in  to  Karmania." 

Here  Karmen  Mara  laughed.  "I  didn't  know  it  required 
such  an  enormous  amount  of  courage  to  cross  a  mountain." 

"In  his  case,  however,  it  called  for  a  certain  amount  of 
cool  blood.  He  had  heard  of  Baumgarten — " 

"Ah!" 

"And  our  poor  Paul  was  killed  the  second  night  of  Cross- 
dale's  arrival.  After  all  this,  he  came  quite  tranquilly, 
knowing  that  he  was  under  suspicion." 

The  Queen  raised  her  eyebrows  and  gave  a  little  shrug. 
Her  smile  was  humorous  as  she  said  to  her  uncle:  "Under 
suspicion  already?"  with  a  fine  accentuation  of  the  last 
word. 

She  took  from  the  pocket  of  her  sweater  a  thin  gold  cigar- 
ette case,  with  two  or  three  cigarettes  in  it,  and  offered  it  to 
the  Prime  Minister.  "Take  one  of  these,  Uncle  Karol.  They 
are  a  new  kind  from  London." 

The  Prime  Minister  lit  one.  She  put  her  racquet  down  on 
a  chair  and  stood  with  her  hands  in  the  pockets  of  her 
sweater,  her  eyes  bent  on  her  Prime  Minister.  Thus,  she 
looked  less  like  a  sporting  woman  and  more  like  some  one 
in  authority.  She  was  tall;  she  was  full  of  vigor;  her  figure 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  153 

was  as  slender  and  as  supple  as  a  boy's,  but  it  was  generous, 
too,  with  fine  wholesome  lines;  shoulders  which  could  carry 
the  burdens  of  life,  and  her  head  was  up;  she  held  it  up  and 
held  it  well,  with  a  level  chin  and  a  level  gaze.  The  Prime 
Minister  had  risen  immediately  when  she  slipped  off  the 
table. 

"Sarvanarof  would  use  anyone  who  came  to  hand  for  a  tool, 
if  he  wanted  him,"  returned  the  Prime  Minister.  "Why  not 
a  civil  engineer  with  official  entry  into  the  country,  with  our 
apparent  confidence,  with  freedom  to  go  where  he  likes,  to 
see  whom  he  chooses?" 

"Does  he  speak  Karmanian?"  inquired  the  Queen. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know." 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  a  little  laugh,  "he  couldn't  do  a 
great  deal  of  propaganda  work  in  Karmania  in  the  kind  of 
English  I  have  heard  Americans  speak." 

It  was  wicked  of  her!  It  was  tart!  She  began  to  walk 
slowly,  with  fine  assured  step,  with  the  right  length  of  step, 
too,  for  a  tall  woman,  up  and  down  the  long  high  room  in 
which  they  sat.  It  was  a  beautiful  room,  what  it  should  be 
for  a  Queen's  Council  Chamber;  small  windows  set  in  walls 
four  feet  deep — deep  as  wells;  walls  hung  with  flags  won  in 
old  wars  on  those  russet  hills  and  plains  beyond;  ceiling 
banked,  encrusted  with  color  and  in  gold,  bright  centuries 
before  and  tarnished  under  Time's  touch. 

"I  didn't  think  Americans  took  any  interest  in  political 
intrigues  of  other  countries." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Prime  Minister  acridly,  "Americans  are  a 
mixture  of  Germans,  Polish,  Italians,  English  and  Dutch. 
There's  no  pure  strain  there  as  there  is  with  us." 


154  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Karmen  Mara  stopped  in  her  walk  over  by  one  of  the 
small  deep-set  windows.  "I'm  not  so  sure,  Uncle  Karol,  that 
there  is  any  great  advantage  in  the  pure  old  strain  these 
days.  Good  qualities  become  so  attenuated." 

Here  the  Prime  Minister,  who  stood  close  to  the  long 
table  on  which  his  papers  lay  outspread,  waiting  for  the 
Queen  to  set  her  hand  and  seal  to  them,  asked  abruptly,  for 
some  reason  of  his  own  changing  the  subject: 

"How  do  you  find  King  Peter,  Karmen  Mara?" 

"Ill,"  said  the  Queen,  "very,  very  ill.  I  don't  see  how 
he  can  live  much  longer,  do  you?" 

All  the  light  in  her  face  seemed  struck  out  as  though  by 
a  wand.  She  came  slowly  back  to  the  table,  and  sat  before  it 
in  a  dark  curved  armchair,  covered  with  colorful  silk-woven 
tapestry.  In  its  ancient  setting  her  figure  and  her  face  looked 
very  young  indeed. 

"The  King,"  she  said  colorlessly,  "never  changes.  Yester- 
day he  didn't  know  me,  called  me  by  all  kinds  of  strange 
names.  Today  he  knew  me."  And  she  continued:  "I  don't 
know  which  is  the  worst  for  me — the  days  he  does  know  me 
or  the  days  he  does  not.  It  is  horrible  altogether." 

The  Prime  Minister  leaned  over  and  dipped  a  pen  in  the 
ink,  put  a  document  before  the  Queen  and  handed  her  the 
pen.  She  took  it,  held  it  in  the  air  and  said:  "I  see  you've 
got  your  prisoner  in  your  own  tower?"  The  smile  came  back 
to  her  lips  and  the  humor  to  her  eyes. 

"Oh,"  smiled  the  Prime  Minister,  "you  mean  Mr.  Cross- 
dale?  I've  put  him  in  my  round  tower  because  we  can  see 
whatever  he  does  so  perfectly  there;  when  he  goes  out  and 
when  he  comes  in,  and  who  comes  in  and  who  goes  out!" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  155 

"How  delightful  for  the  stranger  within  our  gates." 

The  Prime  Minister  waited  patiently  until  she  should  see 
fit  to  begin  her  morning's  work. 

"Would  you  like  to  meet  Mr.  Crossdale?" 

She  started  and  exclaimed,  sincerely: 

"Oh,  horrors,  no!  Not  on  any  account!  I'm  sure  I  don't 
have  to,  do  I?  Why  should  I?" 

"For  no  reason  in  the  world,"  said  the  Prime  Minister, 
"excepting  that  you  returned  to  the  subject  of  this  engineer." 

"I  had  more  than  enough  of  Baumgarten,"  said  Queen 
Karmen  Mara,  with  a  little  shiver  of  disgust.  "Dreadful  man! 
I  shall  never  forget  his  unpleasant  personality.  If  he's  a 
type  of  civil  engineer — " 

"Now  this  document,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  leaning 
over  toward  it,  "is  the  Royal  Resumption  of  the  farms  and 
vineyards  given  over  to  free  fanning  to  the  people  ten  years 
ago." 

The  Queen  bent  to  it.  "I  oughtn't  to  sign  it  without  read- 
ing it  through,"  she  said  wretchedly. 

"That,"  he  said,  "is  just  what  we  are  all  here  for,  you 
know — to  save  your  Majesty  boredom." 

Karmen  Mara  gave  a  comprehensive  glance  at  the  docu- 
ments, neatly  set  forth,  with  marks  in  red  ink  where  her 
signature  should  be  set,  and  before  Karol  could  speak  again, 
swiftly  gathered  them,  like  a  pack  of  cards,  and  held  them, 
laughing,  rolling  them  together  as  though  they  were  a  roll 
of  music. 

"I  must  be  bored,  however,  your  Excellency,"  she  said, 
with  a  charming  inclination  towards  him,  and  falling  with 
a  remarkable  ease  into  an  authority  which  was  hers  and 


156  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

which  on  their  basis  of  uncle  and  niece  she  dropped  entirely 
when  they  spoke  on  any  important  subjects.  "These  are  the 
first  papers  I've  had  to  sign  since  our  armies  were  victorious, 
and  I'm  going  to  look  them  over,  read  them  through  before 
signing,  if  it  gives  me  a  headache,  and  if  I  sit  up  all 
night." 

The  Prime  Minister  in  his  turn  bowed  formally.  "As 
Your  Majesty  pleases.  I'm  sorry  you  haven't  sufficient 
confidence — " 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed  warmly,  "I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
understand  everything  from  beginning  to  end."  And  in 
order  to  divert  his  thoughts  she  returned  to  the  insignificant 
unknown  civil  engineer,  and  said  with  warmth  which  as  she 
continued  grew  into  passion: 

"I  return  to  this  subject  because  it  is  so  near  my  heart, 
this  building  of  the  road.  This  splendid  scheme  of  ours,  to 
connect  Karmania  with  the  river  and  the  sea,  it's  the  birth 
of  our  commerce,  it's  our  touchstone  with  civilization.  I 
realized  in  Paris  what  it  was  going  to  mean.  I  realized  it 
every  step  of  the  way  home,  and  naturally  I'm  interested 
to  know  if  it's  going  through." 

She  sat  on  the  table's  edge  and  the  Prime  Minister,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  took  his  ease  in  his  chair,  crossed  his  short 
legs,  looked  at  his  little  finger  ring,  at  his  polished  nails,  and 
settled  the  stiff  collar  of  his  tunic.  "The  road  will  go 
through,  Your  Majesty." 

Holding  the  roll  of  papers  in  her  hand  she  leaned  a  little 
towards  him  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone:  "I've  thought  some- 
times you  didn't  favor  the  scheme  of  the  road." 

Neither  her  face  nor  her  ardent  look  stirred  the  Prime 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  157 

Minister  from  his  ease.  "Remember  I  sent  to  the  United 
States  for  this  young  man." 

"But  it  was  our  scheme,  you  know,  Your  Excellency — 
Prince  John's  and  mine.  You  know  this.  It  was  our  dream." 

"Now  mine,"  said  the  Prime  Minister  patiently.  "I  am 
as  interested  in  it  as  you  are." 

"I  hope  the  man  understands  the  limits  set  to  his  wander- 
ings in  the  forest?" 

"Oh,  quite.  He  has  all  the  north  woods  to  roam  in. 
It  ought  to  be  enough  for  him,"  the  Prime  Minister  laughed, 
"when  he's  working.  But  he's  an  open-air  man  and  he's 
given  up  a  lot  of  leisure  and  out-of-door  life  to  come  here. 
I  shall  have  to  see  that  he  has  some  outside  life,  meets  some 
people."  The  Prime  Minister  wrinkled  his  brows,  passed  his 
hand  across  his  short,  well-kept  beard. 

"I  shall  never  forget,"  said  the  Queen,  with  a  little  laugh, 
"the  day  we  were  picnicking  by  the  spring  and  that  dread- 
ful Baumgarten  in  full  Alpine  regalia  came  stalking  upon  us, 
with  an  Alpine  stick  and  his  dreadful  boots!  I  think,"  she 
continued,  laughing  again,  "that  he  yodelled!  I  won't  be 
sure,  but  I  think  he  did." 

The  Prime  Minister  laughed;  he  could  not  help  it.  Then 
he  rose  with  a  sigh.  "I  came  to  transact  important  business 
with  Your  Majesty.  Everything  will  have  to  await  your 
pleasure.  And  I  beg  that  Your  Majesty  will  read  these 
papers  before  tomorrow,  because  holding  them  up  will  seri- 
ously hamper  us."  He  bowed  over  her  hand  and  took  leave. 

"I  see  your  treja  at  the  door,  stacked  full  of  things,  which 
I  suppose  you  brought  from  Paris  or  London  for  your 
Birds?" 


158  THE    QUEEN      OF    KARMANIA 

"Yes,"  she  said  regretfully,  "I  was  going  to  take  them 
myself." 

At  the  curtain  which  he  had  lifted,  for  according  to  the 
etiquette  which  the  Queen  exacted,  no  one  came  in  with  the 
Prime  Minister  and  no  one  let  him  out,  he  said :  "I  beg  Your 
Majesty  to  read  the  documents." 

"I  promise  you  I'll  read  them  before  tomorrow,"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh,  "and  I'll  have  to  send  Mariska  to  feed  my 
Birds." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

IN  A  STRANGE  COUNTRY  A  ROOF-TREE  AND  A  LOAF  OF  BREAD 
ARE    NOT    SUFFICIENT.      (KARMANIAN    PROVERB) 

The  limits  for  his  walks  were  prescribed;  north  as  far  as 
he  liked — to  the  Pole  had  he  been  able  to  get  there;  but  on 
the  left  were  the  royal  preserves  and  there  he  might  not 
trespass.  It  was  not  at  all  in  the  line  of  an  American  citizen 
to  enjoy  being  told  where  he  might  walk  and  where  he  might 
not.  When  these  orders  had  been  conveyed  to  Crossdale 
through  Lieutenant  Korvan,  he  demurred.  "I  wonder  what 
she  thinks  I'll  do  to  her  old  preserves?  Eat  them?  Perhaps 
she  is  afraid  I  may  see  her  at  some  dryad  fete,  or  surprise 
her  in  a  woodland  bath! "  Now  as  he  tramped  he  looked  back 
at  little  Savia  on  its  hill. 

"I  bet  the  Queen  doesn't  know  a  United  States  citizen  is 
living  in  this  ol'  shack,  and  I  wonder  how  much  she  cares 
anyway  about  the  Royal  State  Railroad — Better  a  smooth- 
browed  peasant  girl  dancing  the  whirra,  ready  to  throw  her- 
self against  a  man's  breast,  than  an  ice-cold  woman  who 
couldn't  follow  a  man  if  she  loved  him  because  she's  a 
Queen!  She's  a  marionette!"  he  thought  to  himself.  "Noth- 
ing but  a  puppet,  a  figure  in  a  painted  show,  and  they'll  ring 
the  curtain  down  on  it  pretty  soon.  I  wonder  where  the 
Princess  Mariska  is,  and  how  much  she  has  to  do  with  all 
that  royal  show?" 


160  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Fighting  against  his  devilish  mood,  he  tramped  hard,  and 
almost  immediately  struck  the  outskirts  of  the  forest.  He 
knew  already  many  of  the  paths  which  led  for  miles  through 
timberland.  There  were  mountain  climbs;  there  were  walks 
where  the  sheer  abysses  went  down  above  the  mountain 
streams.  And  he  was  beginning  to  explore  them  all  with  a 
man's  love  for  the  woods.  After  two  hours'  steady  tramp 
he  became  in  tune  with  life.  Vital,  wholesome  in  his  attitude 
toward  it,  he  began  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  forest. 
Stanislas  Korvan  had  already  promised  him  sport  and 
planned  boar  hunts  for  the  coming  winter,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  Crossdale  would  remain.  He  tramped  on, 
began  to  climb,  then  descended,  the  blood  racing  through 
him,  growing  every  quarter  of  an  hour  more  in  shape  and 
more  fit. 

Finally  he  came  out  on  to  a  clearing  in  the  pines  where 
the  ground  before  him  was  as  smooth  as  velvet.  He  realized 
that  he  had  never  been  there  before  and  that  he  had  lost  his 
way.  He  looked  at  his  wrist  watch.  It  was  after  four.  He 
had  walked  nearly  five  hours,  and  to  lose  his  way  in  a  forest 
such  as  this  was  no  joke.  He  should  have  come  out  on  to  a 
woodcutters'  camp,  where  the  men  were  felling  wood  for  ties 
for  the  new  railroad.  That  was  what  he  had  really  been 
making  for. 

Whilst  he  was  debating  whether  to  go  back  or  to  push 
ahead,  he  heard  children's  voices,  laughter.  He  went  forward 
softly  over  the  piney  earth.  As  he  advanced  he  saw  an 
extraordinarily  civilized  scene  to  be  dropped  down  in  the 
heart  of  a  pine  forest;  a  little  log  cabin,  covered  with  luxuri- 
ous rose  vines,  on  which  the  roses  were  big  and  yellow  like 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  161 

suns;  at  the  back  of  it  a  still  smaller  cabin,  like  a  child's  toy 
house,  with  a  thatched  roof  and  green  doors  and  a  low 
green  fence;  within  the  entry  he  saw  a  herd  of  goats  with 
tinkling  bells. 

In  front  of  the  first  cabin,  a  group  of  children  hi  the 
native  dress — striped  petticoats,  sandals  and  tight  lace  caps 
and  little  black  smocked  aprons — were  singing  and  making 
a  rosy  ring.  In  the  low  doorway  of  the  rose-covered  hut 
stood  a  peasant  girl,  with  a  great  loaf  of  coarse  bread  pressed 
against  her  breast,  cutting  the  loaf  in  round  slices  and  dis- 
tributing it  to  the  children,  who  one  by  one  came  up  to 
get  a  slice. 

The  girl  herself  was  the  orchestra;  she  was  singing  for 
them  to  dance,  singing  one  of  the  Queen's  songs.  Except  her 
extraordinary  beauty — and  he  had  found  out  that  many  of 
the  native  women  were  raving  beauties — there  was  nothing 
at  first  to  distinguish  her  from  the  Karmanian  peasant 
women,  for  she  was  dressed  in  the  same  fashion  as  were 
those  women  who  danced  the  whirra  and  threw  themselves 
against  their  lovers'  breasts — striped  skirt,  coarse  and  high 
above  the  ankles;  loose  wide  blouse;  broad  open  collar,  dis 
playing  her  throat  and  neck;  she  wore  no  stockings,  only 
wooden  sandals;  and  over  her  skirt  and  blouse  was  tied  z 
bright-blue  apron,  against  which  she  pressed  the  coarse  bread 
as  she  cut  it  through  from  crust  to  crust  with  a  big,  bright 
knife. 

She  was  singing  to  the  kiddies  and  calling  to  them,  and 
her  laughter,  her  voice,  were  as  delicious  as  anything  he  had 
ever  heard,  even  hi  Karmania,  where  music  is  as  natural  as 
the  air.  As  she  stood  there,  he  knew  her  at  once  for  the 


162  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Princess  Mariska.  She  was  the  girl  of  the  little  photograph 
in  California  come  true.  There  she  stood,  unbelievable,  but 
truly  so.  She  had  grown  up,  yet  she  had  remained  a  child. 
Now  she  came  out  from  the  low  doorway,  putting  the  bread 
on  a  wooden  bench  under  the  roses.  The  children  ran  to  her. 

He  saw  that  she  was  a  tall  woman,  and  made  as  kind  Fate 
makes  certain  of  her  favorites,  to  tempt,  delight  and  satisfy. 
She  picked  two  roses  from  the  vines  as  though  she  could 
not  resist  them,  put  one  above  the  top  fold  of  her  bright  blue 
apron  and  another  behind  one  of  her  ears,  so  that  it  shone 
against  her  dark  hair. 

Crossdale  stirred  and  she  started  and  cried  out,  and  the 
children,  like  frightened  birds,  clung  to  her.  He  came 
forward.  She  turned  white,  then  flushed  a  true  country- 
girl  red.  He  bade  her  good  morning  in  Karmanian  as  grace- 
fully as  he  could. 

"Tola,  tola,  I  am  terribly  hungry,"  he  said.  "I  would 
give  a  kingdom  if  I  had  it  for  a  piece  of  bread." 

He  stood  looking  at  this  Karmanian  beauty  quietly.  He 
had  a  great  deal  of  natural  dignity,  although  he  was  a  demo- 
crat from  a  country  where  there  are  no  kings  or  queens  or 
royal  blood. 

The  two  young  people  looked  at  each  other  as  though 
they  were  primitive  man  and  woman  in  that  far-off  forest, 
each  an  unexpected  sight  to  the  other.  He  had  taken  her 
in  the  moment  he  saw  her,  with  a  glad,  wonderful  leap  of 
his  heart.  Ever  since  he  had  first  stood  on  the  other  side  of 
the  photographer's  window  in  Boston  he  had  been  charmed 
by  her  aspect;  until  today  he  had  been  dreaming  of  her. 
But  that  she  could  not  know. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  163 

As  far  as  she  was  concerned,  since  they  had  taken  her 
away  from  the  humble  life  in  which  she  was  born  she  had 
never  talked  to  or  seen  so  real  a  man  as  this.  To  the  children 
she  said:  "Don't  be  frightened — he  won't  eat  you.  It  is  a 
stranger  who  has  lost  his  way."  And  she  looked  at  him  and 
laughed  deliciously.  "You  have  lost  your  way,  haven't  you? 
Come  into  the  hut,  and  I  will  give  you  some  bread  and 
goat's  milk,  too." 

She  scattered  the  children  towards  the  fenced-in  goats 
and  another  peasant  woman,  with  two  pails  swung  over  her 
shoulders,  came  up  and  took  them  in  charge. 

Crossdale,  in  order  to  go  under  the  low  door,  bent  his 
head,  and  she  brushed  the  lintel  with  her  dark  hair.  They 
went  in  together,  between  the  vines  of  yellow  roses,  she 
before  him,  supple,  graceful,  a  girl  of  the  wild  woods,  bare- 
foot and  so  alive!  She  drew  him  into  a  little  kitchen,  hung 
with  blue  and  white  ware,  shining  with  pots  and  pans,  and 
on  a  scoured  table  were  pans  of  milk  set  for  cream.  She 
took  a  skimmer  and  skimmed  the  cream  and  filled  a  cup  for 
him. 

"Sit  down  on  that  stool — it  is  small,  but  it  will  hold  you." 
She  nodded  to  him  in  the  most  friendly  fashion.  She  was 
gracious,  but  she  was  also  wonderfully  familiar.  "You're 
miles  from  your  quarters — you  are  Mr.  Crossdale,  of  San 
Francisco,  the  American  engineer?"  She  made  him  so  per- 
fectly at  his  ease,  more  so  than  any  stranger  he  had  ever 
seen,  that  he  dared  at  a  dash  say  to  her  what  he  had  never 
dreamed  he  would  have  had  the  courage  to  say  without  a 
proper  presentation. 

"You  are  the  Princess  Mariska?  I  knew  you  at  once." 


164  THE    QUEEN  OF    KARMANIA 

He  saw  her  start  and  blush  scarlet.  She  exclaimed: 
"Really — really — how  did  you  know,  I  wonder?  How  did 
you  guess  such  a  thing?" 

He  was  delighted  with  his  debut.  "I  saw  a  picture,"  he 
said,  and  waited. 

"A  picture  of  me?" 

"Yes,  in  the  taproom  of  the  Cye  inn — a  good  picture, 
better  than  most  of  those  things  usually  are.  It  looks  like 
you,  and,"  he  added,  "I  have  seen  another." 

She  seemed  extremely  amused,  probably  by  his  daring. 
She  laughed  a  little  and  said:  "How  awfully,  awfully  funny!" 
just  as  any  girl  at  home  might  have  said,  and  a  strange 
delight  and  joy  and  happiness  ran  through  him.  "Of  course," 
she  was  saying,  "Donora  Mariska,  the  Queen's  sister!  It 
was  awfully,  awfully  clever  of  you  to  guess!" 

"Well,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "you  are  not  the  Queen, 
but  you  are  nearly  as  bad — miles  and  miles  away." 

Her  mouth  was  soft  and  red  and  desirable,  with  curves 
made  for  kisses;  her  eyes  were  blue-gray,  flecked  with  black, 
her  brows  level,  her  lashes  long;  her  skin  warm  in  color,  cool 
as  a  flower  in  texture.  Under  the  loose  frank  blouse  he 
could  see  the  beauty  of  her  throat.  He  knew  now  why  he 
had  come  from  far  to  this  Oriental  country,  why  Storm  had 
been  able  to  persuade  him  to  come!  He  knew  why  he  had 
bought  the  photograph  of  her  so  many  years  ago!  He  knew 
why  he  had  been  made  a  man,  to  love  and  to  dream!  This 
was  his  woman,  born  thousands  of  miles  away  from  his 
birthplace,  and  put  away  from  him  by  Fate  immeasurably 
far.  But  she  was  for  him,  and  nothing  else  in  the  world 
could  ever  count  again  if  he  could  not  have  her  for  his  own. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  MORNING  BIRD  ASKS  A  QUESTION  OF  THE  DAY 
WHICH   THE   NIGHT   BIRD    ANSWERS 

"And  so  you're  the  American  engineer! "  At  the  other  end 
of  the  low  bench,  facing  him  with  elbows  on  the  table,  she 
linked  her  fingers  together  and  stared  over  them  at  Cross- 
dale.  "How  exciting  it  must  be  to  build  a  railroad,  no  end 
of  sport!" 

She  had  cut  off  a  slice  of  the  loaf  and  spread  it  with 
butter.  He  had  never  in  his  life  seen  anything  so  brilliant 
as  this  dark  girl,  with  the  yellow  rose  above  her  bib  and 
another  trailing  round  her  ear.  It  was  a  fairy  tale  come 
true,  and  since  he  had  bent  over  a  picture  book  when  he  was 
a  little  boy,  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  charming.  She 
took  a  spoonful  of  clover  honey,  brown  and  fragrant,  out  of 
a  blue  pot,  and  spread  the  bread  with  it.  Then  she  held  the 
loaf  again  against  her  bib,  taking  up  a  savage  looking  knife. 

"Oh,  don't  do  that!"  exclaimed  Crossdale.  "It  is  a  ter- 
rifying sight!" 

"We  all  cut  bread  like  that  in  Karmania — even  the  Queen 
cuts  the  bread  at  table.  It  is  the  custom  here."  She  smiled, 
lifting  her  eyebrows  slightly.  "Eat  your  bread  and  honey. 
Don't  you  like  it?" 

"It  is  a  feastl"  he  cried.     But  he  watched  her  knife, 


166  THE    QUEEN  OF    KARMANIA 

fascinated,  as  it  cut  the  bread  through  from  crust  to  crust. 

She  drew  in  her  underlip,  over  her  strong  white  teeth,  as 
though  she  might  bite  a  rose,  and  as  thus  she  looked  down 
at  her  hand  and  the  knife,  he  saw  the  charm  of  her  regular 
features,  the  sweep  of  her  lashes,  the  race  in  her,  the  pure 
strain;  the  fine  wrist  to  which  the  full  bare  arm  tapered, 
and  the  strong  white  hand.  He  tried  to  trace  the  mark  of  the 
brigand  in  her,  of  the  breeding  of  the  people.  Certainly  she 
looked  every  inch  a  princess,  come  from  what  class  she 
might.  He  thought:  "I  don't  wonder  that  the  old  King 
carried  them  off!"  And  a  great  yearning  toward  her  and  a 
jealous  anger  at  the  man  who  had  taken  this  girl  and  her 
sister  by  force,  filled  him.  He  blushed  for  her  for  what  had 
been  in  her  past.  He  asked  with  difficulty:  "Does  the  Queen 
take  an  interest  in  the  Royal  State  Railroad?" 

She  stopped  cutting.    "Oh,  a  frightful  lot,  of  course!" 

Crossdale  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  believe  it! 
What  do  women  know  about  such  things?" 

He  lifted  his  blue  cup  of  luscious  cream,  like  ivory.  "I 
am  sure,"  he  said,  "it  is  not  etiquette  to  drink  a  toast  to  the 
Queen  in  milk,  but  here  goes — Heljen!" 

He  blushed,  and  the  Queen's  sister  blushed  as  well.  Then 
she  took  a  mug,  reached  over  and  touched  his,  then  laughed 
out  loud. 

"You  might  call  it  a  milk  toast,"  she  said,  with  the 
crinkles  round  her  eyes  and  her  mouth  mirthful.  "Her 
Majesty  will  be  most  awfully  amused." 

She  settled  herself  comfortably  again  on  the  bench,  lean- 
ing on  the  table,  her  dark  head  on  one  hand,  the  yellow 
rose  close  to  her  palm.  The  adventure  amused  her,  it  was 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  167 

evident.  He  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  wrist  and 
her  bare  arm,  where  the  loose  shirt  sleeve  fell  back. 

"She  is  quite  as  royal  as  her  sister,"  Crossdale  thought, 
"and  just  as  far  removed  from  me  as  the  stars  in  heaven." 

"Don't  you  know  that  you  are  on  forbidden  ground?  How 
did  you  ever  find  this  place?" 

And  he  said  meaningly:  "Oh,  I  believe  I  must  have  been 
coming  to  this  place  for  a  long  time." 

"Don't  they  obey  regulations  in  the  United  States?" 

"There  are  always  law  breakers,  but  I  really  lost  my  way.'" 

"I  don't  like  to  tell  you  how  strict  the  orders  are  here. 
It  would  have  fared  very  ill  indeed  with  you  if  the  guards 
had  caught  you." 

With  apparent  contempt  for  the  laws  against  trespassers, 
he  took  another  slice  of  bread  and  honey  and  said  calmly: 
"I  feel  perfectly  secure  and  completely  within  the  law  just 
at  present." 

"We  obey  in  Karmania,  and  the  higher  up  we  are  the  more 
we  respect  obedience." 

"It  is  very  human  to  disobey  and  we  spend  most  of  our 
lives  trying  to  evade  rules  made  by  ourselves.  Now,"  he 
said,  "won't  you  tell  me  what  this  little  fresh-air  fund  is? 
Who  are  all  these  children?" 

"It  is  a  special  charity  of  the  Queen.  There  are  lots  of 
these  little  open-air  schools  throughout  Karmania.  We  call 
them  'the  Queen's  Birds.'  Do  you  like  Karmania?" 

And  Crossdale  said  with  enthusiasm:  "I  think  it  is  the 
most  beautiful  little  country  I  ever  saw!  It  is  like  a  splendid 
jewel." 

"I'm  glad,  very  glad  indeed!  There's  nothing  in  the  world 


168  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  Karmanians  love  as  they  love  their  country.  The  Queen 
is  a  great  patriot." 

"And  you  are,  too!" 

"Naturally.  And  all  our  hopes  are  centered  now  on  the 
Royal  State  Railway." 

She  leaned  forward,  both  arms  on  the  table  and  her 
clasped  hands  a  little  toward  him.  Crossdale,  who  had 
hoped  that  she  was  interested  in  him  as  man,  hated  to  think 
that  she  was  interested  in  him  solely  because  he  was  the 
engineer. 

"The  Queen,"  she  said,  "came  back  from  Paris  because 
the  operations  were  to  begin.  You  ask  how  much  she  knows 
about  it — "  the  girl  threw  out  her  generous  arms  in  a  gener- 
ous gesture.  "She  has  followed  the  plans,  she  has  read  the 
contracts;  it  was  she  who  sent  to  America  to  implore  the 
Western  Transportation  Company  to  continue  the  work  in 
Karmania.  She  can  hardly  wait  for  the  day  when  she  shall 
ride  through  the  tunnel  on  a  hand  car." 

Crossdale  laughed  out  loud.  "That's  a  good  picture!"  he 
said.  "The  Queen  of  Karmania  on  a  hand  car!"  But  he 
seemed  to  have  offended  her,  for  she  drew  herself  up  and 
said  gravely:  "You,  from  a  great  country  with  thousands 
and  thousands  of  miles  of  rails,  cannot  appreciate  what  this 
little  ribbon  of  steel  is  to  our  Kingdom." 

He  said  quickly:  "Oh,  but  I  do!  I  think  I  must  have 
appreciated  it,  don't  you — I  came  from  very  far  away  to 
prove  it!" 

With  one  of  her  beautiful  fingers  she  traced  on  the  bare 
table.  "You  seem  as  fully  interested  in  it  as  the  Queen  her- 
self." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  169 

"We  are  sisters  and  great  companions,"  she  said  quietly, 
and  then  sprang  up  from  the  table,  as  though  she  heard 
some  one  approaching  the  cottage,  and  went  out  of  the  door 
hi  a  flash. 

He  did  not  know  which  was  most  wonderful — to  see  her 
move  or  to  watch  her  as  she  sat  quietly. 

A  man  came  up  in  hunting  dress  and  she  gave  him  minute 
directions,  pointing,  gesticulating.  When  she  came  in  she 
said:  "That's  one  of  the  foresters,  Hazen.  He  will  take  you 
back.  It  wouldn't  be  safe  for  you  to  go  otherwise,  because, 
although  you  make  light  of  them,  the  rules  are  very,  very 
strict  indeed." 

This  was  his  congee.  He  had  forgotten  that  the  time  must 
come  in  a  few  moments  when  he  would  have  to  go,  and  that 
he  would  be  unlikely  to  see  her  again  like  this. 

Mariska  seemed  to  be  studying  him,  and  asked  abruptly, 
as  he  stood,  hating  to  go  and  knowing  that  he  must:  "When 
do  you  begin  your  work  on  the  road?" 

"I  don't  know — I  have  been  longing  all  day  for  some- 
thing just  like  this." 

She  repeated  his  words:  "Just  like  this?" 

"For  a  homely  scene  and  a  woman's  face." 

"I  understand,"  she  said  sympathetically.  "It  must  be 
horribly  lonely  in  Uncle  Karol's  brown  tower." 

"I  shall  go  back  to  the  United  States." 

She  sank  down  on  the  wooden  bench  without  the  door  and 
exclaimed:  "Oh,  I  could  never,  never  tell  that  to  Her 
Majesty!" 

Crossdale,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  stood  and  looked 
down  at  her  as  though  she  had  been  an  old  friend.  "Why 


170  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

should  I  stay?"  he  said  coolly.  "Any  ordinary  civil  engineer 
would  do  the  work  as  well  as  I.  You  have  only  to  send  to 
Paris  or  London  or  Vienna  for  some  one  to  replace  me.  It 
can  be  done  in  a  week's  time.  There  is  really  nothing  for 
me  here  but  a  railroad  and  a  tunnel.  It  used  to  be  good 
enough,  but  it  isn't  any  more." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  gate  and  he  followed  her.  The 
forester  stood  respectfully  waiting.  "This  man  is  the  head 
forester.  He  will  see  you  safely  back." 

But  Stephen  was  not  to  be  shunted  off  like  this.  He 
wanted  more  than  he  had  ever  wanted  anything  in  his  life 
to  return,  but  he  did  not  let  her  see  it,  and  put  out  his 
hand  frankly.  "Good  night."  She  gave  him  hers  so 
hesitatingly  that  he  said:  "Do  you  shake  hands  like  that  in 
Karmania?" 

"Hazen  has  a  lamp — it  is  growing  dark.  You  will  be 
quite  all  right.  But  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  ever  tell  Her 
Majesty  this  shocking  news!  What  a  dreadful  and  bitter 
disappointment." 

She  gave  some  final  orders  to  the  forester  in  Karmanian. 
When  she  spoke  in  English  he  thought  her  adorable;  when 
she  fell  into  her  native  language  he  liked  her  even  better. 
They  had  reached  the  fence  with  the  cedar  pillar,  against 
which  she  leaned,  with  her  hands  on  her  hips.  What  a 
woman  she  was!  He  had  never  dreamed  that  in  his  con- 
trolled and  reasonable  self  were  the  powers  of  appreciation 
and  delight  that  he  felt  now. 

"I  suppose  nothing  will  change  your  decision?" 

"I  didn't  say  that." 

She  pointed  to  the  little  thatched  houses  over  which  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  171 

evening  sunlight  was  creeping.    "It  is  homelike  and  sweet, 
isn't  it,  this  little  place  here?" 

His  heart  leaped;  he  was  going  to  win  out!  Looking 
directly  at  her,  holding  her  eyes  with  all  the  magnetism  he 
possessed,  he  repeated:  "Yes,  it  is  homelike,  it  is  too  wonder- 
ful for  words!" 

Mariska  put  her  hand  out  to  him  as  any  girl  in  the  United 
States  might  have  done.  Then,  just  as  he  was  beginning  to 
take  courage,  a  coldness  came  over  her,  a  withdrawal,  and 
he  had  a  curious  sense  of  being  far  away,  of  never  having 
really  spoken  with  her.  She  seemed  to  have  gone  to  an 
immeasurable  distance.  "Goodnight,"  she  said  again. 
"You  will  be  safe  with  the  forester." 

He  was  as  struck  by  the  dismissal  as  though  she  had  dealt 
him  a  blow.  Then,  as  he  went  through  the  little  gate,  he 
heard  her  say:  "It  won't  be  as  far  coming  as  going.  Hazen 
will  take  you  by  a  short  cut."  She  emphasized  it;  she 
laughed  unmistakingly,  ravishingly,  and  repeated:  "A  short 
cut."  It  was  an  undoubted  intimation  that  there  was  a 
means  of  return. 

The  windows  of  his  tower  were  all  open  as  he  came  up  to 
it,  under  two  hours  later.  Before  he  knocked  at  the  door 
with  the  iron  knocker  he  heard  Jeff,  secure  in  his  solitude, 
singing: 

"When  you  come  to  the  end  of  a  perfect  day." 


CHAPTER   XX 

WHEN  A  MAN  SIGNS  A  CONTRACT  FOR  THE  SAKE  OF  A  WOMAN, 
HE  IMPERILS   THE  INHERITANCE.    (KARMANIAN  PROVERB.) 

"Is  there  anything  about  me  to  indicate  a  man  who  has 
taken  a  vital  decision,  Jeff?" 

Jeff  Robinson  was  clearing  away  his  master's  late  break- 
fast. Crossdale  had  slept  until  ten  o'clock.  Holding  open 
the  door  into  the  kitchen  with  one  foot,  and  the  tray  in  his 
hands,  Jeff  gravely  glanced  his  master  over  from  his  well  set 
head  to  his  boots. 

"Notin'  at  all,  Boss,  'ceptin'  yo'  ain'  got  on  no  cravat, 
Mister  Crossdale." 

"The  deuce!"    Crossdale  put  his  hand  up  to  his  collar. 

"And  I  am  going  to  meet  the  Prime  Minister  in  two 
minutes!" 

He  was  filled  with  anxiety  lest  Prince  Karol  might  not 
want  him  to  stay  in  Karmania  now,  lest  some  unforeseen 
circumstance  should  have  changed  the  Government's  plans. 
Wouldn't  he  build  the  railroad  for  them!  Wouldn't  he  run 
the  tunnel  through! 

He  glanced  as  he  waited  up  at  the  little  old  city,  then 
at  the  forest,  and  the  dream  he  had  dreamed  up  there 
changed  life  for  him.  He  asked  but  one  thing — to  climb  that 
magic  path  again.  When  could  he  decently  go  back? 
Tomorrow? 

He  had  seen  so  many  curious  vehicles  and  means  of 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  173 

transportation  since  he  had  come  that  he  would  not  have 
been  surprised  to  see  any  old  thing  drive  up  under  his  tower 
window;  but  the  smart  little  red  wheeled  cart,  drawn  by 
a  snow  white  mule,  alive  with  bells,  driven  by  the  Prime 
Minister  himself,  seemed  too  quaint  to  be  true.  This  dis- 
tinctly smart  and  debonair  little  equipage  drew  up  before 
the  tower.  The  Prince  Karol  got  out  comfortably  from  the 
back,  in  a  gray  felt  hat  and  gray  tweeds,  a  scarlet  cravat, 
smoking  a  big  cigarette  in  a  long  holder.  He  came 
unescorted,  and  he  left  his  little  mule  to  stand  and  nibble 
the  grass  heads  with  no  one  to  attend. 

Whilst  he  climbed  the  tower  stairs,  Jeff  Robinson  handed 
his  gentleman  a  pencilled  note  with  great  secrecy,  saying 
behind  his  big  black  hand:  "Mister  Lieutenant  Korvan  do 
say,  read  it  quick,  Mister  Crossdale." 

The  engineer  had  just  time  to  glance  at  it  before  Serga 
announced  the  Prime  Minister.  "For  God's  sake,  Cross- 
dale  don't  fail  to  ask  to  have  me  attached  to  your  staff. 
Stanislas  Korvan." 

This  was  short,  to  the  point,  and  Crossdale  stuffed  it  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket  with  a  grin.  "That  old  boy  is  the 
clinging  type,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "and  sure  to  get  his 
way.  He  will  succceed,  Korvan  will!" 

The  Prime  Minister  came  forward,  beaming.  "My  dear 
Crossdale!" 

And  immediately  the  young  man's  hope  rose  high.  "It 
doesn't  look  as  though  he  were  going  to  run  me  out  of  the 
Kingdom,  anyway!" 

"You  have  been  here  ten  days,  and  I  haven't  had  a 
chance  to  see  how  comfortable  or  how  uncomfortable  you 


174  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

were."  He  looked  around  the  study,  took  a  chair  in  the 
deep  window.  "I  always  sit  in  this  window."  He  indicated 
a  chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  green  covered  table.  "Sit 
there,  Crossdale,  where  I  can  look  at  you." 

"Clever  old  boy!  Knows  how  to  seat  his  victims,"  Cross- 
dale  thought.  "He's  got  all  the  light  on  my  face." 

"Hope  you're  comfortable." 

"It's  a  bully  place,"  said  the  American.  "I  like  it 
immensely." 

"I  know  of  nobody  else  to  whom  I  would  give  it.  It 
was  my  studio;  I  used  to  study  and  draw  a  little  here  before 
I  helped  my  niece  to  run  our  Kingdom."  He  laughed. 

"If  any  one  had  ever  told  me  I  should  be  living  in  a 
tenth-century  tower  rising  like  a  mushroom  out  of  a  plain  in 
Central  Europe,  I  should  have  thought  he  had  delirium 
tremens."  And  he  added:  "If  you'd  come  here  yesterday, 
Your  Excellency,  I  should  have  asked  you  to  send  me  back 
to  Tamaresk." 

"Indeed!"  The  Prime  Minister  lifted  his  heavy  eye- 
brows. 

"I  want  to  stipulate  before  I  give  you  my  answer,"  said 
the  engineer,  "one  or  two  things." 

"Stipulate!"  Karol  repeated  the  word  with  a  fine  accent. 

"You  think  a  prisoner  in  the  tower  has  no  right  to 
stipulate!" 

Prince  Karol  .laughed.  "What  can  we  do  for  you?" 

"I  don't  like  to  feel  if  I  fall  over  a  stump  or  climb  a  fence 
I  would  have  a  bullet  under  my  jacket." 

The  Prime  Minister  nodded,  laughing.  "I  see — the 
Queen's  preserves!" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  175 

"I  don't  want  my  letters  tampered  with." 

"And  what  more?" 

"I'd  like  to  have  Lieutenant  Korvan  on  my  staff.  You 
can  enter  him  as  interpreter,  secretary,  what  you  like.  I 
need  a  native  of  discretion  and  authority  to  keep  me 
wise." 

The  door  leading  into  Jeff's  kitchen  opened  and  Jeff 
brought  in  black  coffee,  which  he  put  down  on  the  table. 
The  Prime  Minister  drank  his.  "I  see  no  reason  why  you 
should  not  receive  your  American  letters." 

"I  have  no  other  correspondence,"  said  Stephen.  "I  give 
you  my  word  of  honor  that  I  am  not  in  communication  with 
any  country  but  my  own." 

The  Prime  Minister  took  from  the  pocket  of  his  coat 
a  package  of  letters  which  looked  wonderfully  good  to 
Crossdale.  "Here  is  your  post,  brought  in  today  from 
Tamaresk,  intact.  You  find  your  colleagues — O'Dell  and 
the  others  on  the  staff — sympathetic?" 

"Oh,  I  find  them  quite  all  right,  Prince  Karol.  They 
are  on  their  jobs."  • 

"Enlarge  your  pay  rolls.  Korvan  will  help  you,  and  find 
you  new  overseers  and  paymasters." 

"I  shall  rush  the  road  through  from  Cye  to  Roda  and 
beyond,  and  I  dare  say  we'll  corral  a  hundred  or  so  of 
these  dancing  dervishes  before  the  New  Year." 

"Then  as  for  your  machinery  and  working  stock — Baum- 
garten's  offices  will  do  to  begin  with?" 

Crossdale  smiled.  "When  I  see  modern  machinery  and 
up-to-date  compressed  air  drills,  steel  rails,  dump  carts, 
electric  engines,  and  all  the  stuff  I  am  used  to,  housed  in 


176  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

those  scenery  houses,  it's  a  wonderful  sight!  The  other  day 
when  I  saw  a  squad  of  workmen  taking  off  their  white 
skirts  and  going  off  to  the  hydraulic  pumps  in  red  and  blue 
tights,  I  nearly  wrote  a  film  story.  It's  a  great  show,  Prince 
Karol!  I  shall  winter  in  Cye  in  November,  continue  from 
there,  but  work  from  both  ends,  and  leave  O'Dell  here." 

The  Prime  Minister  put  his  hand  on  the  green  cloth  of 
the  table  and  tapped  the  contracts.  "Ready  to  sign?" 

"I  came  from  the  United  States  to  sign  them.  I  won't 
go  into  working  details  with  Your  Excellency,"  said  the 
engineer,  "in  regard  to  what  I  shall  need.  I'll  talk  it  all 
out  with  Korvan  and  O'Dell." 

The  Prime  Minister  adjusted  his  glasses  and  bent  over  the 
papers. 

"Her  Majesty  takes  a  deep  interest  hi  the  Royal  State 
Railroad,  they  tell  me,"  Crossdale  ventured. 

The  Prime  Minister  replied  indifferently:  "Railroads  are 
not  toys  for  women.  She  knows  nothing  about  it." 

"The  deuce!"  Crossdale  thought.  "The  Prime  Minister 
and  the  Queen's  sister  don't  seem  to  agree  on  royal 
tastes!" 

"We  have  a  long  autumn,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  "here 
in  Karmania." 

Then  he  wrote  under  Stephen  Crossdale's  signature  his 
five  Christian  names,  ending  with  a  flourish  under  the 
Sarvanaroj. 

"Here,  at  this  red  cross,  the  Queen  will  sign." 

There  were  four  contracts.  The  two  men  signed  them 
all  and  the  Prime  Minister  put  them  in  a  red-leather  port- 
folio, which  he  had  brought  in  with  him,  and  out  of  which 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  177 

he  now  took  a  sheet  of  paper  with  the  following  note,  and 
laid  it  down  before  Stephen  Crossdale. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  an  understanding  between  you  and 
me,  Crossdale,  a  pledge  of  good  faith  on  your  side." 

It  was  short  and  to  the  point: 
"I  agree  not  to  leave  the  Kingdom  of  Karmania  for 

a  year  from  the  thirtieth  of  September,  1920,  to  the 

thirtieth  of  September,  1921,  without  the  permission  of 

the  authorities,  and  to  receive  no  letters  and  to  write 

none  without  the  censorship  of  the  Prime  Minister's 

Cabinet." 

It  did  not  seem  as  though  he  could  put  his  signature  to 
that  document.  But  as  he  hesitated,  he  seemed  to  see  again 
the  finger  of  Mariska.  He  might  go  back  to  his  ranch,  but 
there  was  no  one  like  her  in  the  U.  S.  A.  He  affixed  his 
name. 

"Good!"  The  Prime  Minister  possessed  himself  of  the 
document.  "You  won't  regret  it." 

As  Prince  Karol  got  into  his  mule  cart,  Crossdale  threw 
out  as  though  it  were  only  a  last  thought:  "You'll  revoke 
those  no  trespassing  laws,  then,  your  Excellency?" 

The  Prince  glanced  benignantly  along  the  broad  white 
back  of  his  mule  and  said,  apparently  to  a  point  between 
the  animal's  ears:  "But,  yes,  my  poor  Crossdale,  why  not? 
In  your  case  things  are  very  different — you  are  so  enor- 
mously persona  grata  with  us  all.  And,  moreover,  your 
peregrinations  could  not  disturb  Her  Majesty's  peace;  she 
is  leaving  for  Pratz  Zenoe.  She  is  taking  her  husband,  His 
Majesty,  for  a  rest  cure.  She  will  be  gone  for  an  indefinite 
period.  So,  my  dear  fellow,  there  is  no  reason  on  God's 


178  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

earth  why  you  should  not  have  the  freedom  of  the  forests." 

Prince  Karol  smiled  affably  on  the  young  Californian,  and 
drove  peacefully  off  behind  his  intelligent  beast. 

Poor  Crossdale,  as  he  watched  the  little  vehicle  roll 
toward  the  high  road,  said  to  himself:  "Done,  by  Jove!  And 
sandbagged  into  signing  the  rottenest  paper  ever!  Gone  to 
some  heathenish  place — what  was  it?  Of  course  there  are 
no  roads  there — I  expect  they  get  there  on  snail  back  or 
something  of  that  kind!  But  it  won't  do  me  any  good,  no 
matter  how  they  go.  Confound  myself  for  a  sentimental 
ass!" 

The  arrival  of  Karol  in  a  mule  cart  and  the  picture  of  the 
Queen's  sister  in  wooden  sandals  robbed  the  Kingdom  of 
Karmania  of  a  certain  formality,  and  as  Crossdale  digested 
his  chagrin  at  the  Prime  Minister's  news,  the  door  of  his 
study  was  dashed  open  and  Korvan  leaped  into  the  room. 
He  caught  the  American  round  the  waist  and  waltzed  him 
round,  crying  as  he  did  so:  "Oh,  Crossdale,  you  don't  know 
what  this  means!" 

The  other  shook  him  off.  "What  the  devil—!" 

The  Karmanian,  dishevelled,  his  monocle  dangling,  his 
freckles  lost  in  the  crimsoning  up  of  his  face,  fell  into  one 
of  the  big  chairs  and  held  out  a  hand.  "God  bless  you,  old 
chap!"  Then  pulling  himself  together  asked:  "How  in 
thunder  ever  did  his  Excellency  let  me  go?" 

"He  didn't  seem  to  mind  in  the  least,"  returned  Crossdale 
drily.  "It  looks  as  if  you'd  got  that  awful  bug  of  self-impor- 
tance, too." 

The  young  man  replaced  his  monocle,  fished  out  a  cigar- 
ette and  in  another  second  became  the  military-looking,  con- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  179 

trolled  young  officer.  "Seriously,  though,  old  man,  you  can't 
dream  what  you  have  done  for  me." 

Very  much  later  the  engineer  remembered  the  officer's 
excitement  at  this  release  from  his  military  duties,  the  change 
of  regime  for  him.  It  gave  him  an  unhoped  for  freedom  in 
the  Kingdom. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  repay  you!" 

Crossdale  threw  himself  down  on  the  green  lounge  run- 
ning along  the  wall  under  Prince  Karol's  books  on  sport 
and  linking  his  hands  behind  his  head,  laughed.  "That's 
all  right — if  you  really  feel  all  this  tremendous  indebtedness 
I  dare  say  we  can  fix  up  a  way  in  which  you  can  work  off 
some  of  it  right  now." 

Instantly  Korvan  looked  suspicious.  "Well — "  he  said 
tentatively. 

But  Crossdale  took  the  fence;  he  had  gone  too  far.  "Tell 
all  you  know  about  the  Princess  Mariska."  He  was  thinking 
of  her  deeply  and  very  little  of  the  Karmanian,  but  he  could 
not  but  notice  the  profound  effect  his  demand  produced. 

Korvan  murmured:  "The  Princess  Mariska  I"  and  his 
jaw  dropped.  "But  why  on  earth  specially  her?" 

Instantly  the  American  regretted  that  he  had  asked  this 
and  he  was  rather  confused.  It  would  only  make  his  interest 
conspicuous  to  this  man,  attached  to  him  so  arbitrarily 
now.  "I  expect  I  am  giving  my  head  to  the  lions!"  he 
thought  to  himself. 

"Well,  I  rather  liked  the  looks  of  the  picture  we  saw 
over  in  the  Cye  taproom.  She's  some  girl,  Korvan  I" 

A  look  of  relief  crossed  the  Karmanian's  face.  He  threw 
back  his  head,  laughing.  "Oh,  that  chromo!" 


180  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

"Is  she  married  to  a  duke  or  to  one  of  those  old  Solomon 
Johnnies  that  seem  to  stoke  up  their  harems  in  this  part  of 
the  country?  Poor  girl!" 

"Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,"  said  the  Karmanian 
peacefully.  "She  isn't  married  to  anyone  yet." 

"Then  she's  got  a  good  chance  for  a  proper  love  affair, 
hasn't  she?  I  suppose  she's  gone  with  her  sister  to  that 
hot-air  haunt  up  there,  wherever  it  is?" 

And  Korvan  helped  him:  "Pratz-Zenoe?  Yes,  that  is  our 
fashionable  spa  on  the  way  to  Cye  by  the  plains."  And  he 
added  with  some  feeling:  "Between  you  and  me,  old  top,  I 
don't  think  they  will  ever  bring  His  Majesty  back — he  can't 
possibly  live  till  spring." 

"Ah,"  nodded  the  American,  "you  mustn't  expect  me  to 
cry  about  it,  Korvan.  Between  you  and  me,  I  don't  know  of 
anybody  that  it  would  give  me  more  pleasure  to  shoot  than 
that  old  reprobate.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  him!  Ever 
since  I  heard  about  his  kidnapping,  I  can't  wait  until  I  hear 
the  bells  ring  for  his  entrance  into  the  next  world.  But  I 
suppose,  as  far  as  the  Princess  Mariska  is  concerned,  I  shall 
have  to  wait." 

And  the  other  man  asked  quickly:  "Wait  for  what?" 

Crossdale  laughed.   "To  compare  her  with  the  picture." 

"Seriously,  Crossdale,  now  that  you  and  I  are  going  to 
be  together,  I  shall  have  to  warn  you  on  all  sorts  of  things, 
I  am  afraid.  You  remember  what  I  told  you  about  the 
pictures  of  the  royal  family?  The  Cye  inn  proprietor  served 
thirty  days  in  gaol  for  exhibiting  the  Princess  Mariska's 
picture." 

"Poor  old  boyl"  said  the  American  sympathetically.  Kor- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  181 

van  had  sprung  up  and  was  walking  round  the  room  as  he 
talked. 

"Quit  walking  round  like  a  bear,  Korvan.  Let's  get  to 
business.  Baumgarten  may  have  been  a  bounder,  but  he  was 
pretty  well  fixed  up  as  far  as  modern  machinery  goes.  With 
what  is  on  the  premises  we  can  continue  operations  until  the 
spring — that  is,  if  you  will  get  the  Prime  Minister  to 
authorize  me  to  buy  a  lot  of  war  dump  that  I  know  is  hang- 
ing round  within  a  few  miles  of  Tamaresk  on  the  Rouma- 
nian frontier."  Korvan  listened. 

"There  are  a  whole  lot  of  valuable  war  shanties.  We  can 
use  them  and  use  the  timber.  Besides  that  there's  an  outfit 
of  electric  engines,  cars,  compressed  air  drills,  pretty  nearly 
everything  shipshape  and  in  good  condition.  Now,"  said 
Crossdale,  "we'll  get  that  in,"  and  he  looked  at  Korvan  and 
smiled,  "how,  old  boy?  It's  good  rolling  stock,  but  it  can't 
walk  over  from  where  it's  lying  now." 

"Oh,"  said  Korvan,  "that's  easy.  We  will  carry  it  in  as 
we  carry  in  everything  else,  by  mule  and  oxcart." 

"It  is  at  Gieurgevo,"  said  Crossdale,  "about  an  hour  from 
Tamaresk,  and  we'll  get  busy  and  order  it  sent  in.  How 
long  will  it  take?" 

Korvan  mused.  "Well,  this  is  September.  We  ought  to 
have  the  whole  lot  in  Cye  by  November  first." 

"Good!"  said  Crossdale.  "That  is  the  right  time." 

The  news  that  the  Prime  Minister  had  given  him  at  the 
wheel  of  the  mule  cart  had  made  the  rose-covered  cottage 
seem  for  the  present  a  thing  of  dreams.  He  said  indifferently: 
"No  man  likes  to  be  barbed-wired  off  as  though  he  were  a 
tramp  or  a  poacher.  However,  that's  settled." 


182  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"I  understand,"  said  Korvan,  "that  you  didn't  like  the 
'no  trespassing'  on  the  Queen's  preserves."  He  looked 
amused.  "You  see,  Baumgarten  was  a  bounder,  and  a 
traitor." 

"Oh,  damn  Baumgarten." 

"Decidedly,"  said  Korvan.  "He  was  that  kind!  But 
he  gave  civil  engineers  a  bad  name.  He  had  neither  discre- 
tion, tact,  nor  good  manners."  After  a  second  he  said  seri- 
ously: "They're  on  Prince  Sarvan's  trail,  I'm  afraid." 

"You  don't  mean,"  said  Crossdale,  "that  there  is  serious 
justice  in  this  little  house  of  cards,  do  you,  Korvan?" 

"Death,"  said  the  other,  "is  always  serious,  isn't  it?" 

"Bad  as  that?"  said  Crossdale. 

"There  was  a  Privy  Council  meeting  at  four  yesterday 
afternoon,  and  the  Queen  demanded  the  Prince's  safe  con- 
duct, but  the  Prime  Minister  was  too  much  for  Karmen 
Mara.  She  made  a  fine  appeal,  though,  and  when  she  saw 
that  she  wasn't  gaining  headway,  left  the  Council  Chamber 
royally,  I  assure  you,  Crossdale — although  you  don't  believe 
in  our  forms  and  traditions." 

"Why,"  said  Crossdale,  "the  old  man  Karol  is  quite  a 
power!  But  I  like-it  in  the  Queen."  Korvan's  picture  of  the 
Queen  pleading  for  her  old  playmate  attracted  him.  It  was 
only  when  human  touches  gave  warmth  to  the  picture  of  her 
that  he  thought  of  her  except  in  connection  with  her  sister. 

Korvan  went  over  to  the  big  table  and  began  to  stir  among 
the  papers  in  which  he  felt  a  new  interest.  "I  can't  wait  to 
get  to  work  with  you,  I  can't  wait!" 

But  Crossdale  was  musing.  "Oh,  I  can,"  he  said.  "I  can 
always  wait  to  begin,  and  when  I've  begun,  then  I  can't 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  183 

stop.  Where  is  this  home  for  broken-down  kings  they  are 
going  to  take  the  old  Johnny  to?" 

"Pratz-Zenoe — it's  on  the  borders  of  Roumania,  to  the 
west,  near  Cye,"  said  Korvan,  "on  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain." 

Crossdale  looked  up.  "You  don't  mean,"  he  said,  "that 
they  are  going  to  transport  that  dying  old  gentleman  above 
our  unborn  tunnel,  do  you?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Korvan,  "not  by  any  means — they  go 
round.  It's  a  long  journey,  though." 

Standing  by  Korvan's  side,  watching  the  Karmanian 
handle  the  papers  he  knew  so  well,  Crossdale  said:  "O'Dell 
can  direct  the  mining  operations  from  this  end  for  the 
present.  Now,  how  many  men  can  you  get  me  on  the  pay- 
roll on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  by  October  first?" 

"How  many  do  you  want?" 

"Well,  we  don't  want  to  use  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  native  laborers  on  the  whole  tunnel  project,  Korvan. 
Now,  as  for  the  road,  that's  different.  My  plan  is  to  work 
on  the  Cye  side  from  November  and  we'll  pop  over  and 
continue  this  side  after  the  snows  have  gone." 

"You  can  always  come  round  by  Pratz-Zenoe,"  Korvan 
told  him,  "if  you  don't  mind  cold  feet  and  a  frozen  nose 
crossing  the  plains  in  storms  and  snow." 

Crossdale  laughed.  "I  don't  mind  crossing  anything,"  he 
said,  "if  what  I  want  is  on  the  other  side." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HE  FINDS   AN  EMPTY  NEST,   BUT   HE   TRAPS   A   FOX 

Early  next  morning  he  took  the  little  climbing  path  again, 
retracing  the  steep  incline  by  which  Hazen  had  led  him  down. 
Before  he  got  to  the  clearing  he  listened  for  the  children's 
voices,  but  only  the  tap  of  a  woodpecker  on  a  far-off  tree 
broke  the  stillness.  The  clearing  was  empty,  flecked  with 
sun  and  shadow,  and  through  the  trees  he  could  see  the  set- 
tlement. The  little  green  doors  were  shut,  windows  and 
shutters  closed,  the  toy  houses  ready  to  be  put  back  into  the 
ark.  The  game  was  over!  A  sense  of  defeat  and  disappoint- 
ment and  irritation  came  with  the  sight.  What  a  fool  he  had 
been!  She  had  not  meant  him  to  come  back.  She  had  sent 
him  home  the  shortest  way  and  had  meant  nothing  by  it.  He 
had  been  the  duffer!  He  was  the  goat!  Nevertheless,  he 
found  himself  drawn  magnetically  to  the  little  dairy  house 
and  went  to  the  window  from  which  one  of  the  shutters  was 
slightly  drawn,  and  there  on  the  broad  stone  of  the  sill, 
close  to  the  vine,  he  saw  a  three-cornered  pencilled  note  held 
down  by  a  couple  of  stones.  It  was  addressed  in  a  round, 
full  hand:  "To  the  Man  Who  Lost  His  Way." 

A  feeling  of  gladness  rushed  over  him,  of  great  surprise 
and  delight.  For  a  second  it  made  almost  no  difference  that 
she  was  not  there.  Standing  by  the  rose  vine,  he  read  the 
note: 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  185 

"If  you  are  what  I  think  you  are  you  will  come  here  today 
and  find  this  note.  A  man  who  can  build  roads  can  find  them, 
too.  Sometime  ia  November — at  the  Queen's  lodge  at  Cye." 

The  words  were  printed  as  a  child  might  print  them,  in 
bold  characters.  The  triumph  of  it  struck  Crossdale  almost 
like  a  blow  and  brought  her  before  his  vision,  gracious,  warm 
and  vital.  What  a  fine,  clean  cut  girl  she  was!  He  could 
see  her  standing  there  laughing,  with  the  crinkles  about  her 
eyes. 

He  read  the  little  slip  of  paper  twice.  It  said  so  much 
and  so  little.  This  was  September.  "The  Queen's  lodge  at 
Cye — sometime  in  November."  Two  months!  What  a  sport 
she  was!  He  put  his  hand  on  the  little  house  and  patted  it 
as  though  it  had  been  a  kitten.  He  picked  a  yellow  rose  with 
a  sort  of  humorous  reverence,  and  put  it  with  the  note  in  his 
pocket,  then  walked  slowly  away  from  the  dolls'  houses, 
dreaming  like  a  boy.  She  wanted  to  see  him  again!  It  was 
too  good  to  be  true.  What  could  she  have  seen  to  like  in 
him?  Whereas  the  man  did  not  live  who  would  not  be  car- 
ried away  by  her.  Two  months!  Did  it  take  the  old  King 
all  that  time  to  decide  whether  he  was  going  to  live  or  die? 
Why  should  he  need  the  whole  court  with  him  to  help  him 
make  up  his  mind?  If  the  Queen  were  on  her  job,  why 
could  not  Donora  Mariska  stay  at  home? 

Dreaming,  musing,  turning  over  the  charm  of  it  in  his 
stimulated  mind,  Crossdale  walked  slowly  back  through  the 
clearing  to  the  path,  and  as  he  struck  it  saw  the  figure  of  a 
man  moving  among  the  trees  and  saw  him  step  quickly 
behind  a  pine.  Crossdale  made  a  spring  to  where  the  man 
stood,  caught  him  by  the  shoulders,  turned  him  round  and 


186  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

looked  into  the  face  of  Refan  Ugo.  The  fact  that  this  man 
was  spying  on  him  infuriated  Crossdale. 

"You  damned  blackguard,"  he  said  between  his  teeth, 
"see  if  you  can  give  me  as  good  as  you  are  going  to  get!" 

In  another  second  the  men  had  closed  in  primitive  hand- 
to-hand,  body-to-body  fight.  The  Slav  was  wiry  and  in 
training,  but  the  American  was  the  better  man  by  all  odds, 
even  if  he  was  angry.  He  fought  with  the  fury  of  a  man 
pursued,  spied  upon,  and  an  anger  possessed  him  at  the 
unfairness  of  the  chase.  A  kingdom  against  one  man!  He 
was  merciless.  He  threw  the  spy  and  twisted  his  hand  in 
the  man's  collar  until  he  realized  that  he  had  to  stop.  Then 
he  threw  him  from  him,  gathered  himself  together  and 
watched  Ugo  come  to  life. 

The  spy  sat  up,  gurgling,  and  Crossdale  leaned  down  and 
loosened  his  collar  and  his  cravat.  "You're  not  as  bad  as  all 
that.  Buck  up!  Listen  to  what  I've  got  to  say." 

When  Refan  Ugo  had  his  breath  and  had  struggled  to  his 
feet,  he  leaned  against  a  tree  for  support,  panting,  little  the 
worse  for  the  throw  down.  "So  that  is  the  way  you  are 
taking  in  order  to  ingratiate  yourself  with  your  chief,  is  it, 
Ugo?  You  think  that  he  will  reinstate  you  if  you  give  him 
some  new  proof  of  your  efficiency?  Well,  I  have  only  given 
you  what  was  coming  to  you,  and  I  have  had  it  in  for  you 
ever  since  Tamaresk." 

"Let  me  get  my  wind." 

Crossdale  sat  down  on  a  stump.  He  had  not  even  taken 
off  his  coat,  torn  a  little  on  the  shoulder  where  the  spy  had 
grabbed  it.  He  took  out  a  cigarette,  lit  it,  watching  the 
other.  "As  soon  as  you  can  walk,  start  out,  and  keep  in 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  187 

front  of  me.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  go  about 
like  a  nursery  maid.  I've  got  something  in  my  hip  pocket 
that  will  settle  everything  with  you,  old  chap,  and  I'd  just 
as  soon  shoot  you  from  the  back  as  any  other  way.  You 
come  home  with  me  and  we'll  talk  things  over  by  the  kitchen 
fire." 

In  the  tower  study  Crossdale  seated  the  spy  with  the  light 
on  his  face.  They  had  been  observed  by  no  one  as  they 
went  up  the  little  stairs  and  Crossdale  let  himself  in  with 
his  key. 

"You  and  I  are  going  to  have  this  out  between  us,  Refan 
Ugo." 

Since  Crossdale  had  struck  him  in  the  face  with  his  fist 
the  spy  had  not  spoken  a  word  except  to  ask  to  be  allowed 
to  get  his  breath.  "How  long  have  you  been  on  my  trail?" 

"Ever  since  you  arrived." 

"Good,"  said  Crossdale.   "Of  what  am  I  suspected?" 

"Of  being  the  agent  of  Prince  John  Sarvanarof." 

"Astute!"  said  the  American.  "And  what  have  you  handed 
in?" 

"Nothing  as  yet." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  track  me  into  the  forest  this 
morning?" 

"Saw  you  start  from  here." 

"Didn't  get  much  out  of  it,  did  you?" 

"Except  that  you  took  something  from  the  window  of  the 
Queen's  dairy,  nothing." 

"Do  you  know  what  that  was?" 

"You  got  there  before  I  did."    How  much  of  what  Ugo 


188  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

said  was  true,  Crossdale  had  no  possible  means  of  finding  out. 

"Ugo,  I  had  just  as  soon  drill  you  through  and  blow 
you  up  with  dynamite  as  anything  I  can  think  of!  Have  I 
ever  been  up  to  those  little  dolls'  houses  before  that  you 
know  of?" 

"No,"  the  man  said  frankly.  "I  know  you  haven't  been. 
You  would  have  been  shot  if  you  had  trespassed  on  the 
Queen's  preserves." 

"Right,"  said  Crossdale  coolly.  "This  was  the  first  time." 

"You've  been  given  permission  to  wander  as  you  like  since 
yesterday,  and  that  was  the  reason  I  followed  you  there 
today." 

"I  am  going  to  be  frank  with  you,  Ugo,"  the  American 
said  slowly.  "My  life  is  worth  a  certain  amount  to  me,  and 
so  is  yours,  I  guess.  You  can,  when  you  go  out  of  this 
place,  give  me  over  to  the  authorities  of  this  little  inquisition 
of  yours,  and  that  is  what  you're  going  to  try  to  do.  I'm 
only  one  man  here  against  a  kingdom." 

He  put  his  revolver  on  the  table.  The  spy  took  out  a  little 
notebook  with  a  rubber  strap  around  it,  and  handed  it  over 
to  Crossdale,  and  brought  out  also  two  letters  for  him,  with 
the  seals  unbroken,  and  two  wires. 

"These,"  he  said,  "came  this  morning  for  you.  I  was  to 
deliver  them  to  Lieutenant  Korvan  today,  after  handing 
them  to  the  Prime  Minister.  From  now  on  all  your  mail  will 
come  to  you  clear.  Open  my  notebook." 

Crossdale  did  so,  and  on  the  page  that  he  opened  at  he 
read:  "Mr.  Crossdale  gives  absolutely  no  cause  for  suspicion 
of  any  kind  so  far." 

"Fine!"  exclaimed  the  American,  with  a  short  laugh.  "I 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  189 

never  felt  so  perfectly  at  home  in  my  life  as  I  do  here!  Fill 
it  full  of  poetry  like  that,  and  that's  all  I  ask  of  you." 

"Mr.  Crossdale,  have  you  any  proposition  to  make  me 
that  I  could  accept?" 

The  engineer  fixed  him  with  his  keen,  intelligent  eyes. 
"Well,  I  don't  know.  Rather,  I  do  know — any  proposition  I 
made  you  would  be  immediately  catalogued  against  me, 
turned  over  to  the  Prime  Minister  in  a  few  hours.  Isn't  that 
so?" 

"No,"  said  Ugo.  "I  am  just  as  interested  hi  my  own 
future  as  any  man  is,  and  I  am  up  to  any  good  proposition. 
You  could  not  buy  me  if  I  was  not  sure  of  your  loyalty  to 
the  Queen  and  to  the  monarchy.  I  am  sure  of  that,  and 
whilst  you  are  in  Karmania  you  can  count  on  me." 

"What  did  I  take  from  the  window  sill  of  the  little  hut  in 
the  woods?"  He  was  perfectly  convinced  that  Ugo  had  not 
come  up  in  time  to  see  what  he  had  really  taken. 

"I  have  no  idea." 

Crossdale  took  the  yellow  rose  from  his  pocket.  "This 
rose.  I  raise  these  yellow  roses  in  California — I  wanted  it 
for  a  specimen." 

The  spy  bowed  respectfully.  "I  understand  perfectly.  I 
am  something  of  a  gardener  myself." 

"Good!"  said  Crossdale.  "Most  of  the  ill  and  most  of  the 
good  hi  the  world  started  in  a  garden." 

Ugo  went  over  to  a  mirror  and  settled  his  disarranged 
clothing,  put  himself  in  order. 

"You  studied  ju-jitsu  in  your  country,  Mr.  Crossdale?" 

"I  can  play  football  a  little,"  said  the  young  man. 

"The  next  time  you  see  his  Excellency,"  said  Ugo,  "you 


190  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

will  see  that  I  have  proved  my  good  faith.  Things  will 
change  for  you  in  the  kingdom." 

"It  is  just  as  well  they  should,"  said  Crossdale  coolly, 
"and  as  far  as  you  are  concerned,  let  me  warn  you,  Ugo,  that 
I  don't  hesitate  to  shoot  on  sight  if  I  think  it  is  the  thing  to 
do,  and  take  the  consequences." 

Here  Crossdale  heard  the  sound  of  steps  on  the  stairs 
without  and  Jeff's  voice.  "Come  in!"  he  said,  as  Jefferson 
Robinson  rapped  at  the  door. 

Jeff  opened  it,  to  allow  the  mad  entrance  of  Bela  and 
Tristan,  who  entered  the  tower  room  like  catapults,  barking, 
crying,  whining.  They  sprang  upon  Crossdale,  they  licked 
his  hands  and  his  feet.  His  surprise  and  delight  at  the  sight 
of  them  was  great. 

"Why,  you  old  hounds!"  he  said  affectionately.  "Why, 
you  old  boys!  Who's  coming  after  you,  I  wonder?  Who  is 
the  next  pair?"  In  the  door  behind  Jeff  stood  Serga  and  a 
tall  native,  in  the  house  livery  of  the  Queen. 

"Your  Excellency,"  said  Serga,  "this  man  has  brought  the 
wolfhounds  with  the  Prime  Minister's  compliments.  They 
are  a  present  to  you." 

How  they  whined  and  fawned!  Bela  was  down  at  his 
feet,  on  her  belly,  with  her  nose  on  his  boot,  in  an  attitude 
of  the  most  remarkable  submission,  as  though  she  came  and 
called  him  master. 

"Good  night,"  he  said  to  the  spy.  "I  shall  see  the  Prime 
Minister  in  a  few  days,  and  I  shall  know  what  to  do  with 
you  afterward." 

When  he  was  alone  Crossdale  made  himself  at  home  with 
his  dogs.  He  was  wild  about  them.  He  did  not  know  which 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  191 

one  was  the  most  appealing — the  darker  Tristan,  with  his 
intelligent  eyes,  or  the  more  affectionate  female,  with  her 
humble  devotion.  He  wanted  to  be  alone  with  them,  whom 
he  could  trust,  and  to  sit  there  before  his  table  piled  with 
work  and  finger  the  queer  little  printed  note  again  and 
re-read  it,  this  curious  little  communication  to  him  from  a 
strange  woman  in  this  unfriendly  country. 

He  sat  down  facing  the  window,  which  looked  out  on  the 
climbing  hill  town  of  Savia,  with  the  meadows  between,  and 
spread  out  the  little  bit  of  paper  before  him  on  the  green 
cloth. 

"To  the  Man  Who  Lost  His  Way."  (He  had  not  lost  it- 
he  had  found  it! )  "If  you  are  what  I  think  you  are — "  It 
meant  that  she  thought  about  him,  wondered  about  him, 
that  she  had  formed  an  opinion  about  him.  She  knew  that 
he  was  not  afraid  and  that  he  wanted  to  come  back.  " — you 
will  find  roads  as  well  as  build  them.  Sometime  in  Novem- 
ber. At  the  Queen's  lodge  at  Cye." 

He  thought  to  himself:  "If,  as  Ugo  says,  I'm  under  sur- 
veillance, of  course  the  Queen  knows  and  so  does  she.  They 
think  that  I'm  plotting  with  Sarvanarof  to  overthrow  this 
little  petty  kingdom!  If  she  knows  anything  about  me  she 
thinks  that  I'm  a  rotten  anarchist,  a  Bolshevist,  an  intruder." 

He  mused  on  the  letter,  so  unexpected  and  so  full  of  sug- 
gestion. And  the  yellow  rose  lay  beside  it  crushed,  as  it  had 
been  crushed  against  his  body  and  had  borne  the  brunt  of 
the  hand-to-hand  fight  with  Ugo.  It  was  fragrant.  He 
touched  it  gently. 

He  said  to  the  dogs,  who  stood  one  on  each  side  of  him, 
in  the  position  they  took  from  then  on:  "I  can  speak  the 


192  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

language  you  were  brought  up  in,  boys,  and  we  understand 
one  another,  and  I  don't  feel  quite  so  alone.  There's  Jeff  and 
you  and  me  and  this  rose,  and  we're  all  right!  But  I  can't 
be  sure  even  yet  about  the  letter!" 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE  QUEEN  INVERTS  THE  PROVERB:  "LOVE  ME  LOVE  MY  DOG" 

"Since  the  dogs  approve  of  him,  why  not  make  him  a 
present  of  Bela  and  Tristan?"  As  the  Queen  spoke,  the  two 
wolfhounds,  stretched  out  asleep  on  their  sides  like  dead 
dogs,  in  the  warmest  patch  of  sunlight  on  the  terrace,  gave 
sign  of  life.  Tristan  slapped  his  tail  indolently;  Bela,  the 
female,  came  to  where  the  Queen  sat  and  laid  her  head  on 
the  low  table,  level  with  her  neck. 

Karmen  Mara  was  eating  green  figs,  decorative  and 
luscious  in  a  glass  dish  with  their  leaves  round  them,  and 
she  ate  them  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur,  of  an  epicure; 
broke  them  open  and  dipped  their  pink  pulp  into  a  dish  of 
cream  at  her  side.  Bela  watched  her,  but  eliciting  no  atten- 
tion, returned  to  the  sunlight  and  lay  down.  Her  Majesty 
was  at  a  very  late  breakfast  on  the  southern  terrace,  hanging 
out  over  the  moat.  From  here  the  view  of  the  little  crumbling, 
falling-down-hill  town  was  lost,  and  over  the  balcony  rail  the 
Queen  looked  on  pastures  white  with  sheep,  on  rolling 
farms  and  fields  and  a  winding  stream,  blue  as  a  peacock's 
feather,  and  on  the  hill  line  that  separated  Karmania  from 
Roumania  and  Russia. 

The  confused,  indistinct  murmur  of  an  Oriental  com- 
munity came  humming,  droning,  calling  up  to  her,  always 
musical,  and  the  voices  seemed  to  call  her.  She  could  hear 
them  often  crying  "Heljen/  Heljent"  and  thrilled  always,  in 


194  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  heard  it  for  over  eight  years, 
for  she  had  been  crowned  when  she  was  sixteen,  on  her  mar- 
riage to  the  old  King. 

His  back  to  the  view  and  his  face  towards  his  sovereign, 
the  Prime  Minister  reclined  in  a  wicker  chair,  his  short  legs 
crossed,  his  soft  felt  hat  on  the  floor  with  his  stick  and 
gloves.  He  was  enjoying  the  Anglo-Saxon  pleasure  of  a  pipe, 
caressing  the  bowl  with  his  well-kept  hand.  "Your  Majesty 
is  breakfasting  very  late." 

"I  slept  badly  last  night,"  said  the  Queen  cheerfully.  She 
did  not  look  it.  She  had  a  distinct  air  of  assurance,  the 
unmistakable  look  of  a  young  woman  who  had  come  from  a 
minute  and  careful  toilette;  of  a  young  woman  used  to  cold 
showers  and  cold  baths  and  regular  exercise  and  proper 
hours.  On  this  special  morning  she  was  the  expression  of 
good  health  and  good  spirits. 

"You  should  not  sleep  badly  at  your  age,"  said  the  Prime 
Minister.  "You  work  too  hard — your  light  burned  in  your 
study  until  after  one  o'clock." 

Queen  Karmen  Mara  paused,  a  fig  between  her  two 
fingers.  "Do  you  keep  tab  on  the  hours  of  your  prisoner  in 
the  tower?  I  shall  draw  my  blinds,  although  I  like  to  see  the 
night  as  well  as  I  like  to  see  the  day."  She  gave  a  little 
shrug  and  ate  the  fig. 

"Sentinels  must  report,  my  dear,"  said  her  uncle.  "What 
would  you  think  if  no  one  watched  your  safety?  This  morn- 
ing I  simply  read  the  usual  report." 

"I  was  writing  a  new  song  last  night,"  said  Karmen  Mara 
meditatively.  "And  afterwards  I  had  all  sorts  of  non- 
sensical dreams,  so  I  slept  late  to  catch  up."  Over  her 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  195 

shoulder  she  said  to  the  servant  who  stood  behind  her  chair: 
"Paulus." 

''Your  Majesty." 

"You  will  take  Bela  and  Tristan — "  Here  both  dogs  got 
up  definitely,  came  over  to  her.  They  knew  that  there  was 
something  serious  in  the  mention  of  their  names,  and  ready 
to  be  at  hand  they  stood  on  either  side  of  her  chair  as  they 
had  stood  on  either  side  of  Crossdale's  chair  down  in  the 
forest  lodge.  Since  coming  to  the  castle  they  had  been 
combed  and  washed  and  brushed,  and  their  long  coats  shone 
like  silver.  Each  dog  wore  a  heavy  silver  chain  over  green 
leather  with  the  royal  coat  of  arms.  They  were  royal  looking 
animals  and  the  expression  in  their  eyes  was  more  than 
royal.  Tristan  put  his  feet  on  the  arm  of  the  Queen's 
chair  and  tried  to  lick  her  face.  She  put  him  down  gently. 

"You  will  take  Bela  and  Tristan  to  the  tower  and  present 
them  to  the  American  engineer,  Mr.  Crossdale,  with  the 
Prime  Minister's  compliments." 

"At  once,  Your  Majesty?" 

"When  I  have  gone  out  to  ride.  Leave  them  for  the 
present."  And  to  her  uncle  she  said:  "I  wouldn't  want 
them  to  know  I  have  given  them  away.  You  may  go, 
Paulus." 

"My  dear  girl,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  taking  his  pipe 
out  of  his  mouth  and  looking  at  her  severely,  "what  on  earth 
did  you  do  that  for?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Queen.  "Spanish  polite- 
ness— when  a  guest  admires  something,  you  give  it  to  him!" 

"You  would  give  your  kingdom  to  a  mountebank,  if  I  were 
not  here  to  keep  watch  over  you." 


196  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

The  Queen  had  finished  her  breakfast.  After  giving  each 
of  the  dogs  a  fig,  which  they  ate  appreciatively,  she  dipped 
her  fingers  in  the  bowl  and  wiped  them  and  put  her  napkin 
down  and  turned  her  chair  from  the  table.  "Only  half  my 
Kingdom — that's  the  classic  form,  isn't  it?  'Even  to  the 
half  of  my  kingdom.' " 

Now  that  she  turned  about  in  her  chair  one  could  see  that 
she  dressed  with  originality.  She  wore  a  sort  of  Cossack  boot 
of  white  leather  with  red  heels;  a  morning  boot  to  be  slipped 
on  quickly  and  off  as  quickly;  a  short  white  skirt  of  thick 
homespun  woven  in  the  kingdom;  and  over  this  a  silk  jacket 
of  a  pomegranate  color,  richly  embroidered,  again  the  work 
of  Karmanian  women,  low  at  the  neck — and  she  could 
stand  for  it,  for  her  neck  and  the  column  of  her  throat  were 
superb;  and  over  her  closely  curling  hair,  dressed  so  close 
that  it  had  the  appearance  of  being  short  like  a  boy's,  a 
round,  embroidered  cap  like  her  tunic,  and  it  covered  her 
head  all  but  the  escaping  curls  of  dark  hair. 

Her  face  was  piquant  and  brilliant,  full  of  humor,  but  on 
the  lips  and  in  the  eyes  there  was  fire  and  passion  and 
much  spirit,  and  in  the  deep  indentures  of  her  mouth  and 
in  the  pallor  of  her  face,  mobile  and  expressive,  there  was 
feeling,  no  end  of  it.  There  was  character,  no  end  of  it. 

"Half  of  my  kingdom,"  she  repeated,  in  a  low  tone,  and 
got  up  and  came  and  leaned  on  the  terrace  close  to  her 
uncle,  and  spread  out  her  hand  toward  the  south. 

"Decidedly  not  that  half,"  she  murmured,  "not  that  rich 
and  glorious  south!  Isn't  it  beautiful,  Uncle  Karol?  What 
woman  ever  had  a  more  heavenly  little  land  to  reign  over? 
—Not  the  south,  then." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  197 

She  stood  with  both  hands  on  her  hips,  looking  down 
and  smiling  at  the  Prime  Minister,  who,  by  an  imperious 
gesture  not  to  be  disobeyed,  she  had  forbidden  to  leave  his 
chair. 

"And  decidedly  not  the  half  with  Mount  Nepta  and  my 
forests  and  my  hunts  and  the  splendid  little  railroad  to  run 
along,  and  the  prospective  tunnel  and  the  dungeon  and  that 
American  engineer!  And  they  tell  me — I  had  to  go  to 
Paris  to  learn  it,  your  Excellency — that  somewhere  hi  the 
kingdom  there  is  oil!" 

Here  Karmen  Mara  folded  her  arms  across  her  breast  and 
the  Prime  Minister  disobeyed  her  and  rose.  "What  do 
you  know  about  oil,  your  Majesty?" 

"I  burn  it  at  midnight." 

He  placed  a  chair  for  her  and  she  sat  beside  him,  inclined 
to  talk,  keeping  him,  although  she  knew  that  he  lunched 
early  and  the  hour  was  crawling  near  his  time.  It  was  one 
of  her  caprices  to  detain  this  Prime  Minister  here  at  her 
own  pleasure  until  she  obtained  from  him  what  she  wanted. 

"You  will  miss  those  dogs  horribly — that's  one  of  your 
mad  impulses.  What  can  they  possibly  mean  to  this 
stranger?"  Prince  Karol  put  his  pipe  down  on  the  stones 
of  the  terrace,  by  the  side  of  a  thick  leather  portfolio, 
stamped  with  his  crest  and  arms — a  handsome,  business- 
like looking  article,  evidently  full  of  papers. 

"For  the  next  few  weeks  Savia  will  be  full  of  workmen. 
It  will  be  difficult  for  you  to  go  on  your  tramps,  and  heaven 
knows  it's  dull  enough  for  you  here — I  realize  that!  But  in 
December  we  will  have  the  Bukarest  players  come  and  some 
first-rate  cinema  films  from  London  and  Paris." 


198  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

An  expression  of  pleasure  crossed  her  charming  face. 
"How  awfully  kind  of  you,  uncle  Karol!" 

"I  realize  how  stupid  it  is  for  a  young  and  good  looking 
woman  like  yourself  in  the  capital." 

The  girl  laughed.  "I'm  not  the  only  lonely  pebble  on  the 
beach!  There's  your  railroad  builder,  your  tunnel  borer  I 
Is  he  young  and  good  looking,  too?" 

"I  am  just  come  from  him,  by  the  way."  Karol  glanced 
down  at  his  hat  and  stick  and  gloves.  "He  looks  like  all 
healthy,  well-set-up  men — clean  and  solid;  and  I  dare  say 
he  is  rabidly  lonely." 

Karmen  Mara  threw  up  her  chin  and  laughed  out  loud. 
As  she  did  so,  her  little  round  cap  fell  off  on  the  terrace 
floor.  Bela  instantly  put  a  paw  over  it  and  held  it  between 
her  paws,  guarding  it,  and  the  Queen's  head  like  this  was 
bare  to  the  sunlight  and  the  morning  breeze,  which  rustled, 
as  though  they  were  bits  of  crimson  paper,  the  leaves  of  the 
scarlet  Virginia  creeper  covering  the  rails  and  the  stone  of 
the  balcony. 

"You  will  have  to  import  people  with  the  material  for 
the  railroad,"  said  the  Queen.  "Whom,  in  heaven's  name, 
will  you  ask  this  American  to  meet?  The  fat  wife  of  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior? — the  one  who  asked  me  to 
bring  her  her  new  set  of  false  teeth  from  Paris  (and  I 
brought  them,  by  the  way — ugh! )  Or  some  of  those  overfed 
Savian  beauties — the  ones  who  order  their  dresses  from 
the  Bon  Marche  by  catalogue?" 

The  Prime  Minister  took  his  red  portfolio  from  the  bal- 
cony rail.  "I've  got  his  contracts  here,  by  the  way.  His 
papers  are  all  en  regie,  signed  and  sealed,  and  when 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  199 

you've  affixed  your  signature,  they  will  be  ready  for 
delivery." 

Queen  Karmen  Mara  held  out  her  hand.  "Let  me  see 
how  this  American  signs  his  name,"  she  said,  "his  demo- 
cratic name."  She  looked  at  the  signature.  "Well,  it's 
honest,  intelligible.  I  don't  think  he'll  walk  off  with  the 
tower  on  his  back,  as  the  women  carry  the  straw  and  the 
wheat.  What's  this?" 

"Oh!"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  trying  to  take  the  paper 
from  her  hand.  "That's  not  in  the  lot!" 

Karmen  Mara  gave  him  one  swift  glance,  retained  the 
paper  and  read  it  through. 

"Oh,  how  abominable!"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  Her  eyes, 
which  could  be  as  grave  as  they  were  humorous,  fixed  in 
seriousness  upon  her  minister.  "You  made  that  man  sign 
this  disreputable  paper?" 

But  the  Prince  only  sat  down  a  little  deeper  in  his 
chair  and  crossed  his  legs,  looking  at  his  light  shoe  and  its 
white  spat  with  approval.  The  Queen  had  brought  these 
gaiters  with  the  false  teeth  and  other  commissions  from  Lon- 
don, and  they  were  to  his  taste,  for  he  was  a  great  dandy. 

"As  I  have  told  you  before,"  he  said  impressively,  "he 
is  under  surveillance  and  will  be  for  the  present." 

The  Queen  methodically  tore  to  bits  the  sheet  of  paper 
which  Crossdale  had  signed  that  morning  and  let  the 
pieces  fall  on  the  floor,  and  Bela  and  Tristan  sniffed  at 
them. 

"Middle  Ages,  indeed!    You've  gone  back  to  them!" 

And  she  changed  as  an  inland  sea  changes  under  the 
wind.  Karmen  Mara  became  the  woman  and  the  capricious, 


200  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

humorous  girl  vanished.  She  sat  up  straight  in  her  chair 
with  a  hand  on  each  arm. 

"Your  Excellency,  I  read  over  the  documents  you've 
given  me  to  sign." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Prime  Minister  coolly,  "the  Privy  Council 
meets  at  four  this  afternoon  and  I  must  file  these  documents 
and  give  them  to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior." 

The  Queen  clapped  her  hands  twice,  and  a  servant  came 
immediately,  as  though  he  revolved  out  of  the  door  of  a 
cuckoo  clock.  "Fetch  me  all  the  writing  things  on  my  table 
in  my  study,  as  well  as  the  portfolio." 

The  man  was  gone  but  a  second  or  two,  during  which  time, 
however,  neither  the  Queen  nor  the  Prime  Minister  uttered 
a  word.  Prince  Karol  lit  a  cigarette  and  the  Queen  sat 
immovable  with  a  hand  on  either  arm  of  her  chair,  musing. 

The  man  returned  and  laid  out  upon  the  table,  which 
had  been  cleared  of  the  Queen's  breakfast  things,  writing 
materials  and  a  sheaf  of  documents.  Then  the  Queen  went 
over  to  the  table,  and  the  Prime  Minister  watched  her 
keenly,  used  to  her  caprices — also  imagining,  not  without 
reason,  that  she  was  in  his  hands  and  he  could  make  of  her 
what  he  willed. 

Karmen  Mara  tapped  the  documents.  "I've  signed  those 
— they  are  of  minor  importance.  But  this  paper,"  and  she 
held  up  the  withdrawal  of  the  lands  of  the  peasants  from 
their  present  owners  and  their  return  to  the  Crown,  "is  a 
feudal  disgrace." 

The  Prime  Minister  took  possession  of  it  and  she  did  not 
make  any  demur.  "I'm  sorry,"  he  said  sternly,  "that  you 
feel  like  this.  It  is  drafted  by  the  Parliament  and  by  myself." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  201 

"I  dare  say!"  said  the  Queen  bitterly.  "It's  the  drawing 
in  the  meshes  of  your  absolute  monarchy,  Prince  Karol.  I 
jrefuse  to  sign  that  paper." 

The  Prime  Minister  placed  the  document  in  his  red  port- 
tolio. 

"And  this  poor  American  engineer — he  must  be  free  to 
write  his  love  letters  without  your  reading  them."  She  tried  to 
laugh,  to  collect  herself,  and  Prince  Karol  put  out  his  hand. 

"Good-bye,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "I  must  go  to  luncheon. 
It  will  be  ruined  and  I  shall  be  in  an  impossible  humor  at 
the  Council.  Since  you're  so  interested  in  Mr.  Crossdale's 
correspondence — I  gave  him  all  his  letters  in  their  virgin 
state,  just  as  they  came  from  his  vulgar  republic." 

"Were  they  love  letters?"  asked  the  Queen. 

"I  dare  say,"  answered  Prince  Karol.  "A  handsome  young 
man  would  have  love  letters — and  write  them." 

"Decidedly,"  she  agreed,  and  added:  "And  write  them 
well!" 

"I  have  given  him  Lieutenant  Korvan  for  his  adjutant." 

"Splendid!"  exclaimed  the  Queen.  "Stanislas  will  never 
set  the  Danube  on  fire,  but  he  is  a  good  friend  and  Mariska 
will  be  delighted.  She  is  so  awfully  keen  for  him  to  get  on, 
and  she  hates  the  army.  You  know,  uncle  Karol,  we  shall 
have  to  let  those  young  people  get  married." 

"I  must  go,"  said  the  Prime  Minister.  "I  shall  be  late 
for  luncheon." 

She  gave  him  her  hand  in  signal  of  return  to  better  under- 
standing. His  power  over  her  was  great. 

"Come  to  dinner  with  me  after  the  Council,  uncle  Karol, 
won't  you?  I  shall  miss  the  dogs." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

CROSSDALE  IS  ROYALLY  COMMANDED  TO  DRINK  A  CUP  OF  TEA 

By  November  the  staff  of  the  Royal  State  Railway  was 
definitely  installed  in  Cye,  Crossdale  camping  in  a  peasant 
hut,  which  Korvan  had  found  for  them  near  the  town,  and 
they  would  not  see  the  other  side  of  Mount  Nepta  before  the 
spring.  Baumgarten's  equipment  had  been  completely  mod- 
ernized, and  by  the  use  of  up-to-date  drills  and  the  latest 
models  in  electrical  material  they  were  expediting  the  mining 
of  Nepta  and  the  expulsion  of  the  waste  material  steadily. 
They  looked  forward  with  fair  assurance  to  seeing  daylight 
through  the  rock  in  May. 

Crossdale  had  in  all  two  hundred  and  fifty  laborers,  work- 
ing in  squads  between  Savia  and  Cye,  and  already  the  one- 
track  road  was  laid  from  Cye  to  Roda.  The  war  dump  had 
been  brought  in  from  Roumania  to  Cye  by  trail  and  over  the 
rails.  Crossdale's  and  Korvan's  quarters  were  primitive — 
a  cubby-hole  of  a  kitchen,  a  bedroom  shared  by  them,  and  a 
general  room  in  which  they  ate  and  worked  by  the  light  of 
a  swinging  oil  lamp,  warming  themselves  in  chill  evenings  by 
a  peat  fire  on  the  floor,  the  chimney  open  to  the  sky. 

Of  Refan  Ugo  the  American  had  heard  nothing  since  he 
had  parted  from  him  in  the  tower. 

Korvan  was  away  much  of  the  time  and  explained  his 
absences  by  an  excuse  of  military  duty.  But  Crossdale  asked 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  203 

no  questions  and  expected  no  confidences.  He  was  sure  that 
there  was  a  woman  in  Korvan's  life,  but  whom  she  was  he 
had  no  idea. 

Jefferson  Robinson  had  grown  frankly  disgruntled  and 
entirely  out  of  sympathy  with  his  Oriental  life:  "Scuse  me, 
Boss — ah  sure  don'  wan'  to  put  no*  spoke  in  de  wheel  ob 
cibilLzation,  but  dis  hyar  job  is  gettin'  to  be  one  too  many 
fo'  me!  B'lieve  me,  Mister  Crossdale,  ah'm  goin'  to  git  in 
line  fo'  a  return  ticket." 

Crossdale  had  been  troubled  about  the  man  for  some  time 
here  in  Cye.  His  face  was  cast  in  the  most  profound 
melancholy. 

"Ah  don'  know  what  ah'm  sickenin'  fo'.  Sometimes  ah 
t'ink  it's  fo'  home  food." 

Crossdale  understood  and  sympathized.  "People  of  your 
race  don't  usually  sicken  for  work,  Jeff,  but  that's  the 
matter!  I'll  give  you  fifty  men  to  handle  and  teach  you 
your  job,  and  then  when  you've  got  a  few  minutes  off  you 
can  go  to  see  the  cinema  in  Roda." 

The  man's  face  brightened.  "Fine,  Boss!  Yo'  sure  am 
talkin.'  Ah  neffer  use'  to  serbe  de  directors  on  dere  private 
cars  but  ah  us'  ter  feel  dere  wus  sompin'  in  dat  line  comin' 
ma  way.  Ah  ain'  been  on  fast  trains  twenty-five  years  to 
end  up  hyar  wid  no  transportation  but  a  sled  in  summer 
time  an'  a  mule." 

"Look  at  him,  Korvan!"  Crossdale  said  to  his  companion, 
a  fortnight  later.  "He's  the  real  nigger — nothing  in  the  world 
they  care  for  so  much  as  display!" 

Crossdale  had  placed  Jeff  on  the  line  beyond  Roda.  The 
negro  had  rigged  himself  up  in  a  cast-off  suit  of  his  master's, 


204  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  trousers  stuffed  into  a  pair  of  high  Karmanian  boots. 
It  had  been  easy  in  that  land  of  color  to  possess  himself  of  a 
red  shirt,  and  he  wore  one,  with  one  of  Crossdale's  old  soft 
felt  hats.  He  was  smoking  one  of  the  long  black  Kar- 
manian cigars;  he  had  on  a  pair  of  Crossdale's  evening 
gloves,  white  kid,  rollefl  down  at  the  wrist;  he  carried  a 
small  baton. 

"God  knows  what  language  he  talks  to  them  in,  Cross- 
dale,  but  he's  well  on  his  job!" 

Stephen  wrote  to  Storm: 

"All  serene  on  the  old  Danube.  Working  in  from  the  Cye 
side.  Things  are  in  fairly  good  shape.  If  all  goes  well  I 
ought  to  be  able  to  establish  my  communications  between 
Cye  and  Savia  in  May.  I  dare  say  I'll  be  kept  here  pretty 
well  through  May.  I  can't  slip  you  any  tip  about  the  oil 
yet,  old  man,  although  I'm  getting  ready  to  look  into  the 
matter. 

"Why  don't  you  come  out  to  the  woods  yourself  and  look 
things  over  with  me?  The  hunting's  great.  I've  gotten 
boar  and  stag  among  other  things.  There'll  be  bears  later. 

"To  get  back  to  the  oil  wells,  the  Queen  dissolved  the 
Parliament  and  herself  in  tears,  but  when  Parliament  opens 
they  are  sure  to  get  their  way  in  the  matter,  and  I'd  like  to 
get  busy  before  that  time." 

One  Sunday  Korvan  had  taken  him  over  to  the  next  vil- 
lage to  the  wine  festival,  and  Crossdale  had  watched  with 
enthusiasm  the  vineyard  dance,  until  the  ravishing  savage 
music,  the  melody  and  the  charm  had  been  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  had  suddenly  sprung  up  and  before  the  Kar- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  205 

manian  knew  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  cut  in,  dancing 
with  verve  and  spirit,  extricating  himself,  however,  before 
the  belle  of  the  afternoon  had  thrown  herself  in  his  arms. 

"That's  a  great  little  dance,"  he  said  to  Korvan,  as  he 
came  out,  breathless  and  delighted.  "The  'bunny  hug'  and 
'the  shimmy  shake'  haven't  got  a  thing  on  it." 

In  his  pocket,  in  his  leather  case,  he  kept  the  printed 
letter  he  had  found  on  the  window  sill  of  the  cottage.  He 
read  it  many  times.  "Sometime  in  November — "  and 
when  the  month  came  he  began  to  wonder. 

One  day  at  noon,  during  an  inexplicable  absence  of  Kor- 
van's,  he  heard  the  bells  of  Cye  begin  to  ring  in  the  most 
peculiar  fashion.  Bells  hang  from  every  conceivable  place 
from  which  a  bell  might  hang  in  Cye — indeed,  throughout 
Karmania.  They  seem  to  collect  them,  to  have  a  passion 
for  them.  They  hang  them,  ring  them,  burst  forth  on  all 
possible  occasions,  with  surprising  volubility  and  great  musi- 
cal quality.  The  American  loved  them,  but  he  did  not  under- 
stand them  all.  He  found  out  that  they  were  ringing  for 
weddings  when  he  thought  they  were  summoning  the  fire 
brigade — or  what  might  go  for  a  fire  brigade — and  he  had 
never  been  able  to  class  the  funerals  properly.  He  did  not 
know  whether  weddings  were  more  solemn  occasions  in  Kar- 
mania than  deaths,  but  he  had  not  yet  got  the  bell  business 
listed. 

On  this  day  the  church  bell  rang  in  a  dancing  Dervish 
fashion — madly,  wildly — dashing,  so  Crossdale  thought,  its 
very  head  and  lips  against  the  stones  of  the  little  belfry. 
Then  the  lighter  toned  bell  on  the  top  of  the  Cye  inn — the 
Ritz-Carlton  dinner  bell,  as  Korvan  and  he  called  it — took 


206  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  excitement  up,  and  tolled  in  a  wonderfully  staid  fashion. 
Then  the  other  bells,  wherever  they  might  be — from  the 
donkeys'  necks  to  the  horses'  collars — all  chorused  in,  and 
the  village  was  vocal.  There  were  no  other  bells  to  hear, 
because  the  nearest  town  was  Roda  and  not  audible.  But  in 
the  far  distance  Pratz-Zenoe,  lost  and  mysterious  to  Cross- 
dale,  had  taken  it  up. 

He  did  not  have  to  send  for  Serga  to  ask  him  what  the 
excitement  was,  for  the  servant  came  running,  making  the 
most  peculiar  noise  in  his  throat,  a  sort  of  bleat,  a  sort  of 
cry.  He  threw  himself  down  on  his  knees  before  Crossdale 
and  rocked  to  and  fro,  with  his  hands  covering  his  face. 

"Now,"  thought  the  American,  looking  down  at  him, 
"what  has  broken  loose?  This  is  the  revolution,  sure  thing!" 
And  he  wouldn't  have  been  surprised  to  see  the  place  sur- 
rounded by  Zito  and  his  fifty  good  men  and  true.  But  Serga 
lifted  his  face  and  wailed  forth,  in  a  tone  a  thousand  fold 
more  funereal  than  the  peals  of  the  bells: 

"Los  Rest  Los  Res!" 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Crossdale,  with  extreme  solemnity  in  his 
voice.  "That's  the  dope,  is  it?  The  poor  old  boy  has  passed 
his  checks  in  at  last!" 

That  was  the  way  in  which  Crossdale  learned  that  King 
Peter  had  gone  to  his  last  reward — or  punishment,  what- 
ever it  might  chance  to  be — and  according  to  a  very  old 
Karmanian  law,  in  default  of  other  heirs  the  Queen  was 
the  sole  ruler  of  the  State. 

He  had  pinned  a  little  calendar  up  on  the  wall  of  their  hut 
and  as  November  came  in  and  advanced  he  wondered  each 
day,  tearing  off  the  slips:  "Will  it  be  tomorrow?"  About  a 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  207 

fortnight  later  he  and  Korvan  were  standing  at  the  entrance 
to  the  tunnel,  watching  the  passing  of  the  mule  carts  loaded 
with  tunnel  refuse,  driven  by  Karmanians  in  native  dress, 
standing  bare  legs  apart,  red  cap  in  hand,  driving  the  mules 
with  long  leather-thonged  whips.  Suddenly  the  American 
looked  up  and  saw  a  man  coming  toward  them  from  the 
south:  "Gad!"  he  said.  "If  that  isn't  old  Beelzebub!" 

Korvan  laughed.  "Is  that  what  you  call  Ugo?  Far  too 
good  for  him — he's  only  a  fool." 

"Sorry,"  Crossdale  started  forward  to  meet  the  spy. 
"He'll  be  harder  to  deal  with.  You  can  corrupt  a  devil,  but 
deliver  me  from  a  stupid  man." 

To  Korvan  he  spoke  no  word  of  politics,  and  he  had 
never  mentioned  the  name  of  Refan  Ugo.  When  the  latter 
rode  up,  he  threw  himself  off  his  horse,  saluted  stiffly.  The 
three  men  exchanged  greetings.  Ugo  took  a  letter  from  his 
pocket,  sealed  with  myrtle-green  seals,  and  handed  it  to 
Lieutenant  Korvan.  He  threw  his  horse's  reins  over  its  back 
and  the  animal  immediately  stretched  himself  out  and  began 
to  nose  the  sandy  ground. 

"I  have  ridden  over  from  Pratz-Zenoe,"  said  Ugo.  As  he 
gave  Korvan  the  letter  he  touched  his  forehead  with  his 
hand  and  said  softly:  "Heljen!"  and  Crossdale  knew  that 
the  letter  was  from  the  Queen. 

Ugo  was  thinner  and  paler,  but  he  met  Crossdale's  look 
with  steadiness.  The  American  slapped  him  on  the  back. 
"Well,  Borgia!  What's  the  latest  prescription  for  poisons 
or  torture  for  suspects?  Willie,  we  have  missed  you.  I've 
had  a  light  in  the  window  for  you,  Ugo,  for  the  last  six 
weeks." 


208  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

But  even  to  the  engineer,  who  was  suspicious  of  every- 
thing about  him,  Ugo  seemed  to  have  attained  a  new 
dignity.  "Mr.  Crossdale,  I'm  a  royal  messenger,  but  I'd 
have  come  in  any  case  because  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk 
with  you." 

"Sure,"  said  Crossdale.  "I  didn't  know  till  I  saw  you 
coming  across  the  plains,  Ugo,  how  much  I  wanted  to  see 
you.  How  is  His  Excellency,  Prince  Karol?" 

"I  haven't  seen  his  Excellency — he  arrived  at  Pratz- 
Zenoe  after  I  had  left.  When  can  you  see  me?" 

"Why,"  said  the  engineer  easily,  "any  time,  at  the  Ritz- 
Carlton.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  rendezvous,  Ugo? 
There!"  he  said  pointing.  "About  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  Moulin  Rouge.  That's  what  Lieutenant  Korvan  and  I 
call  the  Cye  hotel.  That's  our  shebang  over  there,  where 
the  smoke's  coming  out  of  the  chimney.  Come  in  tomorrow 
at  six." 

Ugo  smiled  slightly.  "Why,  you  may  not  be  back,  Mr. 
Crossdale." 

The  American  wrinkled  his  eyebrows.  "There!"  he 
exclaimed,  "now  you're  off,  Ugo!  True  to  life!  Not  back 
by  six?  What  do  you  mean?" 

Ugo  put  out  his  hand  and  drew  his  horse  back  from  the 
rails.  "The  Queen,"  he  said,  "is  coming  to  Cye  to  the  hunt- 
ing lodge,  for  a  few  days." 

Here  Korvan,  who  had  finished  his  letter,  put  it  in  its 
envelope  and  thrust  the  envelope  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat. 
He  linked  his  arm  in  Crossdale's  and  turned  him  away  from 
Ugo,  walking  slowly  toward  the  village.  "Her  Majesty  is 
coming  here." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  209 

Crossdale  lifted  his  eyebrows.  "To  the  tunnel  or  the  Ritz- 
Carlton?" 

"To  her  own  lodge.  She  wishes  to  come  to  Cye  and  see 
the  operations  of  the  Royal  State  Railway." 

Here,  as  he  spoke,  one  of  the  laborers  came  running, 
carrying  in  his  hand  the  red  flag  and  crying  in  Karmanian 
to  stand  back,  to  stand  back.  He  was  followed  by  hurrying 
laborers,  some  of  them  naked  to  the  waist,  and  they  scattered 
in  different  directions. 

Crossdale  and  Korvan  and  Refan  Ugo  stood  together, 
watching  for  the  low,  soft  thunderous  explosion  which  fol- 
lowed shortly,  seeming  to  tear  apart  the  very  entrails  of 
Mount  Nepta,  and  out  of  the  tunnel's  mouth  billows  of 
smoke  rolled,  white  as  snow,  afterwards  turning  to  pale 
ashen  yellow.  Crossdale  went  over  to  the  foreman  of  the 
squad  of  workmen  and  remained  for  some  time,  talking  and 
taking  notes.  Korvan  followed  slowly. 

"It  is  a  bit  complicated,"  Korvan  said,  after  a  few 
moments.  "Her  Majesty  will  be  here  tomorrow  at  four." 

"We'll  blow  up  the  tenth  section  for  her,"  said  Crossdale 
indifferently.  "I've  been  waiting  for  royalty  to  do  it.  I'm 
going  to  the  office  now — come  along,  Korvan." 

But  Korvan  put  his  hand  on  the  other's  arm.  "The  Queen 
wants  her  visit  to  be  incognito.  It's  one  of  her  caprices. 
She  says  you  are  to  go  over  to  the  hunting  lodge  at  four 
and  have  tea  there,  and  meanwhile  I  am  to  show  her  every- 
thing there  is  to  see." 

Crossdale  gave  his  full  attention  to  his  friend.  "Gosh, 
Korvan,"  he  said  shortly,  "what  does  she  think  I  am?  An 
English  old  maid  who  can't  miss  her  tea?  Tea  at  five 


210  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

o'clock,  according  to  her  royal  pleasure!"  he  laughed.  "Well, 
111  be  damned!" 

The  other  man  was  visibly  embarrassed.  "It's  a  whim 
of  Karmen  Mara's,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go.  It's  a 
royal  command." 

The  American  put  his  hand  inside  his  waistcoat  to  find 
a  cigarette,  and  he  touched  his  little  leather  case.  And  then 
it  rushed  over  him:  Tea  at  the  lodge  at  five  o'clock!  This 
was  November!  "Sometime  in  November!"  And  his  expres- 
sion changed  so  suddenly  that  he  was  afraid  to  let  his  com- 
panion see  the  alteration. 

As  he  lit  his  cigarette  he  capitulated  weakly:  "All  right 
— if  it's  a  royal  command,  I  suppose  it  will  have  to  be 
obeyed." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

AT  THE  QUEEN'S  LODGE — "SOMETIME  IN  NOVEMBER" 

Crossdale  rode  over  from  Cye,  and  it  was  past  four  when 
he  stopped  his  horse  before  the  Lodge.  Lights  glowed  behind 
the  red  curtains.  It  gave  him  a  strange  feeling  to  realize  that 
he  was  expected. 

"Hello,  Rip- Van- Winkle !"  he  said  to  the  gray  beard  who 
opened  the  door.  "What  are  the  latest  bulletins  of  battle, 
murder  and  sudden  death?  The  God  of  the  Harvests  send 
you  a  mild  winter!"  which  was  the  customary  greeting  to 
servants  who  carry  wood  for  fires  in  Karmania. 

The  November  dusk  filled  the  long  living  room,  lit  by  the 
fire  only.  The  ancient  took  Crossdale's  hat  and  gloves  and 
the  American  went  over  to  the  fireplace,  in  front  of  which 
the  table  was  spread  for  tea,  with  hissing  samovar,  green 
cups  and  saucers,  plates  of  bread,  butter  and  honey,  and  a 
bowl  of  yellow  roses  bright  as  butter  amongst  their  green 
leaves. 

Crossdale  thought  the  feast  suggestive.  It  seemed  con- 
trived on  purpose  that  he  should  remember  the  cottage  on 
the  Savia  side  of  the  mountain  and  the  dairy  fare. 

He  was  glowing  with  exercise,  full  of  expectation.  It  was 
November.  "Sometime  in  November."  This  was  Cye; 
this  was  the  Queen's  lodge. 


212  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

He  started  like  a  boy  when  the  door  opened  to  let  in 
Griffen,  the  oldest  of  the  three  hounds,  who  came  bounding 
to  Crossdale,  and  the  two  were  standing  before  the  fire  when 
the  door  opened  a  second  time  to  let  in  a  lady.  Back  of  her 
a  servant  carried  two  lighted  candelabra. 

Crossdale  heard  her  say:  "So  sorry  to  have  kept  you 
waiting,"  and  she  came  in,  charmingly,  with  great  friend- 
liness, and  holding  out  her  hand  as  though  they  were  old 
friends. 

"I  didn't  mind  waiting  in  the  least — I  had  a  friend  to 
keep  me  company."  His  hand  was  on  the  dog's  head.  She 
sat  before  the  tea  table  and  the  light  of  the  fire  fell  redly 
over  her,  as  the  noon  sun  had  shone  on  her  in  the  forest  hut. 
She  began  to  make  the  tea.  She  wore  a  short,  thick  walking 
skirt,  brown  like  the  leaves,  and  a  mannish  little  silk  shirt 
with  a  smart  cravat  and  mannish  cuff  links;  but  around  her 
neck  fell  a  long  chain  of  small  pearls  caught  in  at  the  belt 
of  her  dress.  Otherwise  she  was  severe,  boyish.  All  over  her 
head  grew  the  close  curling  hair,  crisp  and  dark. 

"The  work  on  the  road  is  going  splendidly,  we  hear,  isn't 
it,  Mr.  Crossdale?.  I  want  to  see  the  mining  of  a  section 
from  start  to  finish.  I  will  come  some  day,"  she  said  with 
spirit,  "surely."  And  then,  as  though  she  envied  her  sister, 
she  continued:  "I  wonder  what  Korvan  is  showing  the 
Queen?" 

"Nothing  much,"  said  the  engineer  indifferently.  "Waste 
cars — hundreds  of  them  a  day — dragging  out  the  very  heart 
of  poor  old  Nepta!  The  natives  work  like  ants." 

He  took  his  place  by  the  fire,  standing  near  her  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  looking  down.  He  felt  deliciously  at 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  213 

ease  and  thought  how  jolly  it  would  be  to  have  tea  with  her, 
breakfast,  lunch  and  dinner  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days  out  of  the  year! 

As  she  sat  in  the  green-covered  chair,  before  the  shining 
table,  with  its  beautiful  things,  the  light  of  the  fire  warm 
on  her  white  blouse,  her  hands  and  hair  and  cheek,  he  said: 
"I  waited  for  the  Queen's  visit  to  the  railroad  with  great 
calm.  Royalty  means  nothing  to  Americans!  You  should 
see  our  democratic  country,  from  east  to  west,  with  every- 
body equal.  The  cook — when  you  get  her — comes  in  her 
own  machine  to  do  her  work,  and  she  feels  herself  such  a 
little  queen.  The  spirit  of  equality  runs  through  the 
country." 

"It  is  rather  entertaining,"  she  returned.  "But  for 
hundreds  of  years  we  have  been  royalties,  we  are  part  of 
this  system." 

Crossdale  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice:  "But  you  ought 
not  to  be  a  monarchist!  You're  a  real  woman,  too  real  to 
bother  with  all  this  picture-book  sort  of  thing!"  She  stared 
at  him  in  frankest  astonishment,  pushed  her  chair  back  and 
made  a  little  exclamation  at  his  daring. 

"You  come  from  the  people  yourself,  don't  you,  Princess?" 
She  did  not  reply  to  this  directly,  as  though  she  thought  it 
were  taking  a  great  liberty.  But  she  said:  "John  Sarvanarof 
thought  as  you  do,"  and  was  silent,  turning  her  head  from 
him,  looking  into  the  fire,  for  a  few  seconds. 

He  could  enjoy  to  the  full  the  picture  she  made — vivid, 
adorable,  full  of  life  and  color,  so  near  to  him — and  so  far 
removed!  He  was  thinking  to  himself:  "Oh,  it  can't  be  pos- 
sible that  I  have  only  seen  her  twice,  that  this  is  the  second 


214  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

time!"  But  he  had  back  of  him  no  traditions  that  should 
make  him  tremble  before  caste  and  high  state. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  something,"  he  said,  "that  will 
amuse  you  very  much  indeed.  Do  you  remember,  when  you 
were  in  England — a  school  girl,  I  should  say — having  your 
photograph  taken  in  Dover  Street?" 

She  turned  slowly  round  to  him.  "Why  do  you  ask  me 
that?" 

"Because — it's  awfully  curious,  isn't  it? — but  I  suppose 
you  had  a  dozen  or  so  taken,  as  one  does,  and  out  of  that 
dozen  a  copy  went  over  to  the  United  States,  and  was  put  in 
a  photographer's  window  in  Boston,  with  a  lot  of  other 
foreign  swells." 

She  was  listening  to  him,  hanging  on  his  words.  Nothing 
so  strange  and  so  personal  had  ever  happened  to  her.  Of 
all  the  photographs  which  had  been  taken  of  her  for  years, 
none  of  them  were  on  exhibition  in  the  kingdom. 

"One  day  I  was  going  along  in  Boston  and  I  saw  that  pic- 
ture in  the  window,  and  I  went  in  and  bought  it." 

"You  did?    You  bought  it?" 

Crossdale  nodded.  "I  took  it  back  with  me  to  my  rooms 
in  the  University.  I  put  it  up  on  my  chimney  piece,  and 
it  has  stayed  with  me  ever  since.  I  have  got  it  now,  out  on 
my  ranch,  in  an  old  portfolio.  It  was  a  picture  of  you — that 
I  know.  But  when  I  bought  it  I  did  not  know  there  was 
such  a  person  in  the  world  as  the  Princess  Mariska." 

Here  she  put  both  hands  over  her  face  and  shook  with 
laughter.  He  heard  her  exclaim:  "Princess  Mariska!  Oh, 
it's  really  too  awfully  funny!  It's  fortunate  that  you  haven't 
that  picture  in  Karmania,  because  all  pictures  of  the  royal 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  215 

family  are  the  private  property  of  the  court."  Griffen  was 
between  them  on  the  rug,  his  long  gray  body  out- 
stretched. 

"You  must  not  tell  the  Queen  what  a  rank  democrat  I 
am,"  he  said,  "or  she  might  think  that  I  was  a  suspicious 
character.  I  am  really  nothing  but  a  tunnel  builder  and  a 
road  maker,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  politics  of 
any  country." 

"It  is  always  well  to  know  what  one's  guests  think,  and 
you  have  been  wonderfully  frank." 

She  moved  away  from  the  tea  table.  He  could  not  take 
his  eyes  from  her.  Her  brown  skirt  was  very  short  above 
her  ankles,  in  their  brown  stockings  and  shoes;  it  was  the 
dress  of  a  woman  used  to  out-of-door  sports  and  life,  and 
she  walked  with  a  freedom,  with  a  subtleness,  with  a  lightness 
that  was  a  pleasure  to  observe.  Griffen  followed  her  and 
she  wound  her  hand  in  his  collar,  as  she  had  wound  it  in  the 
chain  around  her  neck. 

Again  there  came  to  him  the  same  feeling  that  he  had  had 
up  on  the  mountain  on  the  Savian  side.  When  he  knew 
that  he  must  leave  her,  when  he  should  go  out  of  here,  there 
would  be  nothing  left  but  a  problematic  tune  when  he  might 
see  her  again. 

"As  I  passed  through  here  in  September,  this  note  was 
given  me  the  first  night  I  spent  in  Las  Restaurus.  I  have 
carried  it  round  with  me  ever  since,  and  it's  taken  nearly 
three  months  to  find  a  means  to  pass  it  on.  Now,  will  you 
see  that  Her  Majesty  gets  this  letter?"  and  he  handed  her 
the  letter  enclosed  to  the  Queen  in  his  communication  from 


216  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

John  Sarvanarof,  brought  him  by  the  native  Creta  in  the 
heart  of  the  night. 

She  took  it,  turned  it  over,  looking  at  the  seal  with  an 
expression  of  surprise. 

"Mr.  Crossdale — this  is  extraordinary — I  don't  know  if 
I  should  take  it  like  this — " 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  don't  believe  you 
are  under  the  thumb  of  the  Prime  Minister.  I  couldn't 
believe  it  of  you — you've  got  too  much  spirit;  you're  too 
much  of  a  sport,  too  much  of  a  woman.  There's  no  dyna- 
mite in  it,"  with  a  little  smile  and  dropping  his  voice.  "I 
dare  say  it's  a  love  letter."  And  he  saw  her  blush  royally 
then. 

Across  her  mobile  face  astonishment,  interest  and  amuse- 
ment passed.  Crossdale  was  so  naive  and  so  boyish,  so  per- 
fectly frank,  so  absolutely  full  of  good  faith,  so  devoid  of 
convention  and  formality.  He  was  charming  her.  She 
slipped  the  letter  in  the  pocket  of  her  brown  woolen  skirt 
and  buttoned  the  button  over  it.  And  Crossdale  returned 
to  his  own  affairs. 

"I  found  the  note  you  left  on  the  sill  of  the  little  doll's 
house.  That's  why  I  came  here  today,  not  to  obey  a  royal 
command  in  the  least — just  to  see  you."  Her  face  broke 
into  smiles,  and  she  bit  her  lip  again  as  he  had  seen  her 
do  when  she  was  cutting  the  bread  in  the  dairy. 

"You  did  go  back  then?" 

"Of  course — next  day — and  I  was  never  so  disappointed 
in  all  my  life  as  when  I  found  the  blinds  drawn  and  the 
place  deserted." 

She  liked  the  way  he  stood.    He  hardly  moved.     There 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  217 

was  a  strength  and  repose  about  his  figure;  he  was  as  well 
set-up  as  a  healthy,  vigorous  man  should  be.  She  liked  the 
set  of  his  clothes,  the  way  he  wore  them;  his  broad  shoulders 
and  deep  chest  and  his  sleek,  dark  head.  Best  of  all  she  liked 
the  intent  and  earnest  expression  of  his  face,  his  simplicity, 
reality. 

She  walked  toward  the  deep  cedar  door,  without  which  was 
the  darkening  autumn  night.  Outside  he  could  hear  his  horse. 
Unable  to  keep  the  words  back  that  threatened  to  make  him 
indiscreet  and  perhaps  spoil  his  chances,  he  asked: 

"Why  did  you  ask  me  to  come  here  today?" 

She  stopped,  the  dog  by  her  side.  "I  wanted  some  one 
to  tell  me  about  the  road,  too." 

"Why  did  you  leave  that  note  on  the  window  ledge?" 

She  did  not  seem  in  the  least  afraid  to  meet  his  eyes  with 
her  own,  and  all  around  the  corners  of  them,  close  to  her 
long  black  lashes,  were  little  crinkles  of  amusement.  "Just  as 
you  put  crumbs,  to  see  if  they  will  be  gone  in  the  morning." 

"You  wanted  me  to  find  the  path  again;  you  wanted  me 
to  return.  Why?" 

She  raised  her  hand.  "Listen!"  And  she  came  a  little 
toward  him,  Griffen  following  her.  "The  Queen's  minstrels 
—listen!" 

A  little  group  of  Karmanian  singers  had  come  up  on  the 
porch  and  they  began  to  tune  their  crude  instruments. 

"They  have  come  to  sing  to  the  Queen  some  of  her  songs." 

She  drew  back,  Griffen  beside  her,  away  from  the  door. 
Crossdale  could  see  the  grouping  of  the  musicians  in  their 
native  dress  on  the  porch.  They  began  to  sing  the  song  he 
knew  so  well: 


218  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

"What  shall  be  given 

To  him  who  comes  riding 

Over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests 

To  our  hill  city?" 

They  stood  together  like  this  in  the  candlelight  and  fire- 
light while  the  musicians  sang.  Then  she  stirred.  Cross- 
dale  put  out  his  hand.  "Good-bye.  Good-night."  The  musi- 
cians tuned  and  scraped  and  began  the  second  song  of  the 
series  of  love  songs  that  had  made  Karmen  Mara  famous. 

When  she  spoke  again  her  voice  was  quite  matter-of-fact. 
"I  will  send  you  a  message  tomorrow  by  Refan  Ugo,  to  ask 
you  when  I  can  come  and  see  the  operations." 

"By  that  old  chameleon?" 

She  seemed  amused.  "That  describes  him  exactly.  He 
does  change,  but  now  he  wears  the  green  of  the  Queen's 
servants." 

As  she  remained  standing,  waiting  for  him  to  go,  he  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  follow  her  suggestion,  because,  curi- 
ously, there  seemed  to  fall  between  them,  as  there  had  before, 
a  sudden  coldness,  a  sense  of  distance.  He  felt  as  far  from 
her  in  that  moment  as  he  had  felt  near  a  little  while  before, 
and  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  without  being 
announced,  the  footman  who  had  entered  with  the  candela- 
bra, began  to  remove  the  tea  things. 

The  American  bowed,  and  without  attempting  to  touch 
her  hand  again,  went  out,  past  the  group  of  native  musi- 
cians. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

A  WOMAN  IN  LOVE  FEARS  DANGER  FOR  HER  LOVER, 

WHEREAS  HIS  GREATEST  DANGER  IS  HERSELF 

(KARMANIAN  PROVERB) 

The  Queen  went  hunting  nearly  every  day  with  her  suite 
and  in  those  forests  which  he  had  now  no  time  to  explore 
Crossdale  heard  the  sound  of  the  horn  and  the  cry  of  the 
hounds.  The  charm  of  the  visit  to  the  lodge  thrilled  him 
and  there  was  about  his  feeling  for  her  an  unrest  and  yet 
a  great  content.  He  had  a  belief  in  things;  he  believed  that 
what  was  for  him  was  coming  his  way  and  nothing  on  earth 
could  stop  it.  Walking  home  he  slipped  back  out  of  sight 
to  watch,  for  he  heard  the  hounds  in  full  cry — magic  sound 
that  no  sportsman  can  hear  indifferently. 

The  Queen's  hunt  broke  from  the  edge  of  the  woods,  took 
the  field  between  the  high  road  of  Cye  and  the  entrance  of 
the  forest  in  the  direction  of  the  lodge.  Over  peasant  lands 
and  brown  fields  he  saw  them  rush  by  him — dogs,  horses, 
the  men  in  regulation  pink  coats,  white  trousers,  high  boots, 
conventional  and  out  of  keeping  with  barbaric  Karmania. 
After  them,  on  a  perfect  hunter,  which  looked  to  be  English, 
he  saw  not  the  Queen,  but  the  woman  of  the  yellow  rose,  and 
alone.  He  waited  to  see  the  Queen,  but  saw  no  one  but  this 
charming  woman,  who  flashed  by  in  perfect  form  and  took 
the  ditch  like  a  bird  across  the  first  meadow.  She  dis- 
appeared in  the  mist. 


220  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"She's  only  the  sister  of  the  Queen,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self, with  a  certain  irritation,  "and  herself  from  simple 
people.  Why  don't  I  write  a  letter  and  ask  her  to  let  me 
see  her?  Why  shouldn't  I?" 

He  walked  slowly  home,  thinking  of  her,  and  was  getting 
to  work  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices  outside  and  the 
baying  of  dogs,  a  blast  from  the  horn,  and  some  one  rapped 
sharply  on  the  door  as  though  with  the  butt  of  a  whip. 

He  opened  the  door  and  she  stood  there,  in  scarlet  coat, 
stiff  collar,  little  low  hat,  riding  breeches  and  high  boots, 
gloves  and  whip  in  her  hands.  Back  of  her  were  huntsmen 
and  dogs,  but  they  fell  behind  as  she  entered  the  hut  and 
Crossdale  shut  the  door. 

She  was  very  grave.  Indeed,  there  had  always  been  two 
atmospheres  between  them:  one  of  comradeship  and  sweet- 
ness, of  remarkable  understanding,  the  atmosphere  between 
two  mates;  then  a  wall,  an  immeasurable  distance,  as  though 
he  were  a  North  Pole  man  and  she  a  South  Pole  woman,  with 
the  equator  and  continents  between. 

"Did  the  fox  run  in  here,  Mr.  Crossdale?" 

Crossdale  caught  his  breath  and  was  equal  to  the  situa- 
tion. 

"If  you  mean  Captain  Ugo,  Princess,  yes.  A  fortnight 
ago."  And  then  he  grew  all  warm  and  exultant.  The  joxl 
She  had  wanted  to  come  and  see  him — she  was  keeping  her 
promise — this  was  her  excuse.  Before  the  unlit  peat  fire 
was  a  peasant  chair,  garnished  with  bright-colored  calico, 
and  a  low  black  bench. 

"This  is  my  drawing  room  and  my  state  apartment.  Will 
you  have  the  box  or  the  chair?" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  221 

She  smiled,  yet  hardly  could  he  call  it  a  smile.  She  was 
looking  at  him  profoundly,  out  of  the  grayest  of  gray  eyes, 
flecked  with  brown.  She  kept  her  gloves  and  whip  and  held 
them  in  her  strong,  capable,  ringless  hands.  As  she  took 
the  chair  and  Crossdale  perched  on  the  box,  he  said: 

"I  won't  really  give  you  the  choice  between  the  box  and 
the  chair  because  the  chair  is  uncertain.  It  is  in  Korvan's 
place — he  is  lighter  weight  than  I  am." 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed  and  started  to  rise,  as  though  she 
did  not  care  at  all  to  find  herself  suddenly  on  the  stone  floor. 

"It  will  hold  you"  said  Crossdale.  "You're  a  feather- 
weight for  a  tall  woman." 

"I'm  the  Queen's  messenger,"  she  said. 

The  American  bowed.  And  he  saw  that  she  was  not  to 
him  as  she  had  been,  although  she  was  charming.  "HeljenI" 
he  murmured  softly,  and  she  inclined  her  head. 

"You  gave  me  a  letter  for  the  Queen." 

"One  that  had  been  entrusted  to  me." 

"We  find  it  singular  that  a  stranger — a  guest — " 

Crossdale  interrupted.  "I  couldn't  call  myself  a  guest  in 
this  kingdom!" 

"You  have  not  been  given  true  hospitality  in  the  King- 
dom?" 

"Well,  I  have  been  watched  like  a  miserable  suspect  ever 
since  I  entered,  to  tell  the  truth,  and  until  I  beat  up  the 
chap  who  had  been  set  upon  me  to  dog  my  steps,  until  I  had 
thrashed  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  I  don't  think  I  stood 
a  chance." 

He  saw  her  great  surprise;  she  flushed,  and  he  continued: 
^Refan  Ugo  is  not  likely  to  boast  about  his  beating." 


222  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"Refan  Ugo?  I  think  you  misjudge  him,  Mr.  Crossdale. 
Honestly,  I  don't  believe  you  have  a  truer  friend  in  the  king- 
dom, from  what  I  have  heard  the  Prime  Minister  say  to  the 
Queen."  But  then  she  tossed  her  head  back  in  a  way  she 
had,  as  though  to  shake  away  something  she  did  not  care  to 
discuss:  "To  return  to  the  letter — " 

"Yes."    He  accepted  to  go  back  to  that. 

She  looked  a  little  troubled,  finding  it  hard  to  put  her 
questions.  Then  she  asked  abruptly:  "Do  you  know  what 
that  letter  contained?"  looking  him  fully  in  the  eyes. 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea." 

It  was  always  a  hard  thing  for  him  when  he  was  with  her 
to  think  of  her  in  any  way  but  as  the  woman  with  whom  he 
had  fallen  in  love  and  whom  he  wanted  to  court  and  to  win. 
Everything  else  seemed  such  an  awful  waste  of  time  between 
them,  when  time  was  short  and  fate  was  cruel.  What  a 
wonder  she  was!  What  a  chin!  What  a  mould  of  the  lips! 
What  flexible  strong  hands!  How  full  of  character  and 
race  she  was! 

It  amused  him  to  see  that  she  was  studying  him,  too,  in 
her  woman's  way,  trying  to  read  him.  She  wound  her 
gloves  round  and  round  in  a  tight  chamois  ball,  and  sitting 
up  very  straight  on  the  box,  she  began  to  put  him  through 
a  sort  of  catechism.  "Do  you  know,  I  believe  that  I  will 
tell  you  the  substance  of  that  letter?" 

"Well,"  said  Crossdale,  "that  is  for  you  to  decide.  I 
don't  know  whether  you  had  better  do  so  or  not.  What  can 
I  say?  After  all,  what  can  it  possibly  have  to  do  with  me 
and  my  work  in  Karmania?" 

She  did  not  hear  a  word  he  said.  She  seemed  to  be  mus- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  223 

ing.  "It  is  colossal!"  she  exclaimed.  "Extraordinary!  And 
the  man  who  wrote  it  deserves  all  that  will  come  to  him 
later — some  day  he  will  meet  his  nemesis.  He  will  surely  be 
murdered  by  some  one — it  is  in  his  palm,  you  know — years 
ago  it  was  foretold  him  here  in  the  kingdom  that  he  would 
meet  with  a  violent  death." 

Crossdale  said:  "He  is  a  striking  figure — there  is  no  doubt 
about  that;  very  dramatic,  and  I  dare  say  tragic,  too. 
Ambitious  people  who  sacrifice  everything  to  their  ends 
usually  end  up  in  a  tragic  fashion,  don't  you  think?" 

She  probably  heard  him,  as  she  was  tremendously  inter- 
ested in  him  altogether,  but  she  gave  no  sign,  and  with  her 
little  whip  drew  on  the  tiles  of  the  rough  peasant  hearth 
imaginary  lines.  Crossdale  thought:  "If  every  one  of  those 
lines  were  the  obstacles  between  us,  Princess,  they  would  not 
be  half  enough!  How  great  they  are!  Shall  I  ever  be  able 
to  overcome  them?" 

"In  writing  to  Her  Majesty  he  says  in  sum  a  great  deal 
that  he  used  to  say  to  her  when  he  was  in  office  in  Kar- 
mania.  He  used  then  to  spend  hours  trying  to  win  her  over 
to  his  ideas  of  democracy ;  he  asked  her  then  to  abdicate,  to 
proclaim  the  kingdom  a  republic."  She  raised  her  eyes  to 
Crossdale's. 

But  the  Kingdom  of  Karmania — its  politics,  its  rebel- 
lions, its  seditions — were  insignificant  in  comparison  with 
the  fact  that  there  she  sat,  desirable  and  dear,  alone  with 
him  in  this  little  room,  and  that  he  loved  her.  This  was  so 
much  more  important  that  what  she  saw  in  his  face  made 
her  color  and  look  away,  down  at  the  hearthstone,  where 
nothing  had  transfixed  her  imaginary  lines. 


224  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"He  cries  democracy  to  the  skies,"  she  went  on.  "He 
has  written  out  a  long  speech  for  freedom."  She  shrugged. 
"Again  he  asks  the  Queen  to  give  up  her  kingdom,  to  pro- 
claim him  president." 

Here  Crossdale  exclaimed:  "I  never  heard  such  sublime 
arrogance!  Why,  he's  quite  superb,  isn't  he?" 

"The  most  extraordinary  has  yet  to  come,"  said  Cross- 
dale's  visitor.  "He  says  that  she  must  marry  him  and  rule 
the  republic  with  her  husband."  Now  she  looked  at  him 
again,  but  Crossdale  took  this  very  peacefully.  Indeed, 
with  whom  the  Queen  of  Karmania  ruled  was  little  to  him. 

"Ambitious  to  the  last  degree,  isn't  he?  When  I  first 
came  here  I  was  told  by  many  people  what  a  great  lover 
John  Sarvanarof  was,  and  that  he  had  loved  the  Queen 
for  years.  It  can't  be  any  news  to  you,  of  course — all 
court  gossip  must  be  known  to  you."  But  she  sat  up 
sharply.  Evidently  he  had  startled  her. 

"On  the  contrary,"  she  said,  "I  did  not  know  that — at 
least,  I  mean  I  had  no  idea  it  was  such  common  talk.  We 
are  kept  hideously  protected  at  the  court.  So  that  is  what 
they  say,  do  they?"  Her  tone  was  cold,  disdainful,  her  face 
pale  as  she  met  his  eyes.  "Well  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Cross- 
dale,  with  authority,  that  the  Queen  would  rather  die  than 
accept  his  proposition."  Then  she  broke  in  upon  her  anger, 
for  she  was  angry  and  showed  it,  and  said:  "But  there  is 
still  more  of  this  letter.  He  advises  the  Queen  to  make  an 
ally  of  you,  Mr.  Crossdale,  to  enlist  you  in  our  cause,  as  he 
calls  it." 

He  interrupted  her:  "It  isn't  possible  that  he  should  dare 
to  speak  my  name  in  that  way  to  the  Queen?  Before  God, 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  225 

I  want  to  tell  her  that  I  have  no  remote  interest  in  Prince 
John  and  his  revolution!  What  can  I  say — ?" 

She  remained  some  few  moments  looking  at  him  quietly, 
thoughtfully,  then  a  charming  smile  broke  over  her  face. 

"You  need  not  say  anything  at  all.  I  dare  say  I  am  very 
foolish  and  very  easily  persuaded,  but  I  believe  you." 

Under  her  spell  Crossdale  said  daringly:  "You're  too  real 
a  woman,  too  wonderful  a  woman,  to  have  any  part  at  all  in 
this  picture  book  life." 

"Why,  how  do  you  mean?"    She  flushed  crimson. 

"You  ought  to  be  living  a  real  existence  in  an  up-to-date 
country,  making  a  man  happy  and  bringing  up  sons  and 
daughters  on  democratic  lines!  If  I  have  shocked  you  I  am 
sorry,"  he  continued.  "It's  because  you  seem  such  a  real 
woman  to  me,"  and  he  laughed  a  little  softly,  "and  I  feel 
such  a  real  man."  He  got  up  and  took  a  match  off  the 
little  ledge  that  ran  around  the  wall  and  stooped  down  and 
lit  the  peat  fire.  "It  gets  so  beastly  cold  here  in  about  five 
seconds  that  you'll  feel  it."  And  he  crouched  there  over 
his  fire  as  it  formed  and  took,  and  she  watched  him. 

"When  you  speak  of  real  things,"  she  said  slowly,  "you 
think  of  your  country,  of  your  people." 

"Of  course." 

"Our  country  and  our  people  seem  just  as  real  to  us." 

He  was  very  near  her.  From  where  he  half  kneeled  at  the 
fire  he  looked  up  at  her. 

"If  they  are,  if  they  do,  that's  all  right.  To  me  the 
whole  thing  here  seems  like  a  dream,  a  Christmas  panto- 
mime. The  only  thing  in  it  that  is  real  is  you." 

She  was  looking  at  him,  directly,  with  her  great  gray 


226  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

eyes.  He  had  to  use  all  his  control  to  keep  from  seizing  her 
hands  with  the  gloves  and  whip  in  them,  covering  them  with 
kisses,  putting  his  head  down  on  her  knees.  He  rose,  went 
back  to  his  seat,  but  her  glance  followed  him. 

"If  the  Prime  Minister  knew  of  this  letter — " 

"He'd  treat  me  as  he  did  Baumgarten." 

"Baumgarten  committed  suicide." 

"So  he  did — I  forgot."  His  tone  was  unmistakable.  She 
let  it  pass  and  rose  slowly. 

"Oh,  don't  move!"  he  pleaded.  "If  you  knew  what 
it  is  to  see  a  woman  in  this  room!"  But  she  moved  slowly 
from  before  the  hot  fire,  drawing  her  gloves  through  her 
hands. 

"You  must  be  very,  very  careful  in  Karmania,  Mr.  Cross- 
dale." 

He  laughed.  "Extremely  careful  with  dynamite,  for 
instance.  If  I  wasn't,  the  Queen  would  have  a  few  hundred 
subjects  less!  These  chaps  here  treat  dynamite  as  though 
it  were  loaf  sugar.  If  you  mean — if  you  mean  I  must  be 
careful  in  the  way  I  want  to  see  you,  the  way  I  would  like 
to  know  you  better  and  to — " 

"Please!  Please!  The  country  is  full  of  enemies  to  the 
crown.  There  is  sedition  at  our  doors." 

"You  might  say,  there  are  brave  men  fighting  for  their 
ideals,  Princess." 

She  said  slowly:  "If  the  Prime  Minister  should  think 
that  you  were  one  of  those  brave  men,  fighting  for  those 
ideals — " 

She  was  passing  close  to  him  and  he  might  not  even  touch 
the  hand  that  held  the  whip  and  gloves!  Dear  as  she  was, 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  227 

lovely  as  she  was,  growing  to  him  more  and  more  adorable 
and  desirable  every  moment,  between  them  there  was  that 
wall,  that  distance.  There  was  the  equator  indeed,  but  she 
was  the  North  Pole  woman  and  -he  was  the  South  Pole  man. 

"You  came  to  warn  me,  Princess?    It  was  kind — " 

"I  came  to  see  what  you  knew  about  the  letter." 

"You  believe  that  I  knew  nothing  of  its  contents?" 

"I  believe  what  you  tell  me." 

He  drew  in  his  breath  with  delight.  She  trusted  him! 
That  was  a  great  step  between  them.  "You  are  too  good 
for  words!"  he  cried  warmly.  "I  am  telling  you  God's 
truth — I  am  innocent  of  plot  or  intrigue.  I  never  saw 
Prince  John  in  my  life  until  I  met  him  on  the  Danube  boat." 

She  asked  him  to  open  the  door  and  as  he  did  so  there 
rushed  in  the  gust-like  mist  of  the  November  fog  that  rises 
in  the  mountain  towns  and  invests  the  plains  before  sun- 
set. Two  or  three  horsemen  waited  without.  Her  visit  as 
messenger  from  the  Queen  to  the  civil  engineer  was 
thoroughly  chaperoned  by  men  and  dogs! 

"In  my  own  country — in  my  democratic  country  where 
everything  is  real  and  simple,  I  could  ask  to  see  you.  But 
because  you  are  at  the  court  and  the  sister  of  the  Queen  I 
am  as  far  away  from  you  as  though  I  were  an  outcast!" 

"How  ridiculous!"  She  put  her  hand  out  in  decided 
leave-taking.  "Good-night." 

"Princess  Mariska,  when  may  I  see  you  again?"  He 
helped  her  mount  and  as  she  looked  down  at  him  from  her 
horse,  he  returned  her  look  steadily:  "I  must  either  see  you 
again,  and  soon,  and  many,  many  times,  or  never  again." 


228  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

She  did  not  answer.  She  gathered  up  her  reins, 
touched  her  horse  and  rode  away. 

But  he  did  not  regret.  "She  must  know!  What  con- 
fidence in  me  she  has!"  he  mused.  "What  trust!  How 
adorable  she  is,  how  wonderful!  Fancy  her  coming  here 
like  that,  with  all  that  confidence,  to  warn  me!"  And  he 
repeated:  "But  she  must  know!" 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

KORVAN  RECEIVES  A  SINISTER  INVITATION   TO  PASS 
A  WEEK-END  WITH  THE  PRIME   MINISTER 

Crossdale  had  come  from  an  interview  with  Ugo,  who  had 
done  his  best  to  impress  Crossdale  favorably,  and  he  had 
been  again  the  agreeable  fellow  the  American  had  found 
him  to  be  in  Tamaresk.  He  had  asked  the  engineer  to  out- 
line the  progress  of  the  operations  on  the  Royal  State  Rail- 
road for  the  Prime  Minister;  he  had  discussed  with  him 
Monsieur  O'Dell,  third  in  authority,  an  able  engineer. 

"Both  her  Majesty  and  the  Prime  Minister  wish  me  to 
express  to  you  their  satisfaction  with  the  progress  of  the 
Royal  State  Railroad.  When  we  parted  in  the  tower  in 
September,  I  told  you  that  there  was  nothing  against  you 
in  our  books.  That's  the  way  things  stand  tonight.  You 
have  got  a  clean  bill." 

Crossdale  pondered.  "He's  probably  going  to  slip  the 
handcuffs  on  me  tomorrow." 

As  the  two  men  walked  along  together  toward  the  "Silver 
Horn"  the  spy  said  in  parting:  "Do  you  know  what  your 
man  Jeff  is  doing  in  Roda?" 

"What  I  instructed  him  to  do,"  said  the  engineer,  on  the 
alert.  "He  is  paymaster  for  about  fifty  men.  What's 
wrong?" 

"Be  sure  you  keep  in  touch  with  him." 


230  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"Come,"  said  Crossdale  annoyed,  "out  with  it!  You 
know  I  don't  like  mysteries  and  God  knows  I  am  surrounded 
by  them!  What's  the  matter  with  the  wretched  man?" 

"When  did  you  see  him  last?" 

"Let  me  see — "  said  Crossdale,  now  alarmed.  "About 
ten  days  ago.  He  was  all  right  then."  A  smile  came  to 
his  lips  as  he  recalled  Jeff. 

"He  is  not  in  Roda  now." 

Crossdale  stopped  still  in  the  road  in  the  cold  November 
moonlight  and  fixed  his  companion. 

"Not  in  Roda?"  And  he  continued:  "By  Jove,  Ugo!  If 
anything  happens  to  that  servant  of  mine  you'll  settle  with 
the  United  States." 

The  Karmanian  soothed  him.  "There  is  a  big  festival  at 
Pratz-Zenoe,  a  native  affair — a  bazaar  and  a  circus — I  dare 
say  your  man  is  among  the  pleasure  seekers." 

"Of  course  he  is,"  said  Crossdale,  genuinely  relieved.  "He 
is  all  negro  and  would  risk  his  life  to  see  a  circus.  Keep 
your  eye  on  him,  Ugo.  Give  me  his  news!" 

Ugo  promised. 

Korvan  and  Crossdale  had  dubbed  the  tap  room  of  the 
"Silver  Horn"  "The  Moulin  Rouge"  because  of  the  spirited 
singing  and  dancing  which  went  on  in  the  little  cafe  morn- 
ing, noon  and  night.  The  "Silver  Horn"  was  a  great  dis- 
traction for  both  of  the  young  men.  It  amused  the  Ameri- 
can to  watch  the  dancing  and  the  beautiful  dark-eyed 
women  of  the  town,  his  workmen  and  the  overseers — all 
came  in  and  "whirra'ed." 

Korvan  was  absorbed — not  the  same  man  who  had  come 
to  Cye  in  the  first  days  of  October.  For  a  fortnight  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  231 

American  had  seen  very  little  of  him,  and  almost  all  the 
work  had  fallen  on  Crossdale. 

From  a  table  in  the  corner  near  the  bar  he  watched  Kor- 
van  now,  the  center  of  a  little  group  of  men  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  partly  concealed  by  smoke  from  bad  cigars 
and  pipes.  The  landlady  was  absent  from  the  bar,  leaving 
in  her  place  a  brown-eyed  lad  of  some  twelve  summers  to 
mix  the  native  drinks  while  she  langorously  "whirra'ed" 
with  a  majestic  Karmanian. 

Crossdale  saw  Korvan  put  his  arm  familiarly  through  the 
arm  of  their  second  overseer,  a  chap  in  charge  of  the  dyna- 
miting. Stephen  was  used  to  Karmanian  demonstration,  but 
he  disliked  his  colleague's  intimacy  with  his  work  people. 

He  had  come  in  without  being  remarked.  He  finished 
what  the  "Silver  Horn"  called  black  coffee — black  enough 
looking  in  all  truth,  and  tasting  like  heavily  sweetened 
liquorice.  It  had  the  advantage  of  not  being  easily  for- 
gotten; the  taste  of  it  remained  in  the  mouth  for  the  evening. 

"Come  here,  Ganymede!"  Crossdale  said  in  English  to 
the  dark  eyed  Karmanian  child,  who  was  handing  out  by  the 
pailful  a  special  cordial  tremendously  popular  with  the 
patrons  of  the  tap  room.  As  far  as  he  had  ever  been  able 
to  find  out  everything  swam  in  it  but  liquor.  It  was  mild; 
like  most  of  the  things  in  the  country,  it  was  highly  colored ; 
it  was  harmless.  The  Karmanians  worked,  danced  and 
sang  on  non-intoxicating  beverages.  "Ask  Lieutenant  Kor- 
van to  come  here." 

The  boy,  who  had  climbed  out  over  his  perch,  nodded  and 
fled.  He  extracted  Korvan  from  the  smoke  and  brought 
him  over  to  Crossdale. 


232  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Stephen  got  up  from  behind  the  table.  "I  say,  old  chap, 
I'm  going  back  to  the  barracks.  I've  got  some  special 
matters  to  talk  over  with  you.  Can  you  tear  yourself  away 
from  these  gunpowder  plots  and  come  home?" 

Ostensibly  consulting  with  his  colleague  over  operations 
beyond  Roda,  he  studied  him.  Korvan  was  nervous, 
absorbed.  Their  little  oil  lamp,  swaying  in  the  most  uncom- 
fortable fashion,  whilst  the  flaring  charcoal  threw  its  long 
shadows  on  the  wooden  ceiling  and  the  stone  floor,  Cross- 
dale  broke  the  silence:  "Korvan,  I  am  going  back  to  Savia 
next  week." 

.The  other  readjusted  his  monocle.  He  did  not  seem  to 
take  in  what  his  companion  had  told  him. 

"Come,  old  chap — is  it  love  or  politics?  What  the  deuce 
is  the  matter  with  you,  Korvan?  If  it's  intrigue,  I  don't 
want  to  hear  about  it,  but  if  it's  a  love  affair,  that's 
another  matter." 

Here  Korvan,  who  was  drawing  with  a  blue  pencil  some 
geometrical  figures  on  a  piece  of  paper,  sat  up  and  raised 
his  hand,  breathlessly  listening.  From  without  came  the 
sound  of  guitar  strings  lightly  touched,  a  man's  voice  sing- 
ing a  verse  of  Karmen  Mara's  latest  song. 

Korvan,  perfectly  motionless  and  pale  as  death,  listened, 
and  in  another  moment  he  had  gone  to  the  door  and  opened 
it  noiselessly,  and  when  he  shut  it  he  shut  within  the  hut 
a  minstrel — a  tall  youth,  his  scarlet  tunic  belted  with 
coarse  leather  belt,  his  blue  trousers  stuffed  in  his  muddy 
boots,  a  scarf  around  his  neck  hiding  mouth  and  chin,  the 
fur  cap  pulled  down,  concealing  the  brown  face,  as  dark  as 
an  Indian's. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  233 

He  held  out  his  guitar,  stretching  wide  his  arms,  and  the 
next  minute  had  thrown  his  arms  round  Korvan  in  a 
brotherly  embrace.  He  dashed  off  his  hat,  unwound  his 
scarf,  tossing  them  on  the  table  and  cried  to  Crossdale  in  a 
low,  vibrating  voice:  "Hello!  Glad  to  see  you!" 

Korvan  had  changed.  In  every  move  of  his  body,  in 
every  line  of  his  face,  he  was  alert,  breathless,  pale  as  death. 
He  seized  Sarvan  by  the  arm.  "You're  mad!"  he  cried. 
"Mad,  my  God!  Nothing  can  save  you  now!" 

But  Sarvan,  cool  and  laughing,  stood  his  guitar  in  a 
corner,  took  the  peasant  armchair  and  stretched  out  his  legs 
with  a  sigh  of  content.  "Gad,  mes  amis,  I'm  as  hungry  as 
a  bear.  How  good  it  feels  to  sit  down!" 

"You've  got  cool  nerve,  Prince  Sarvan,"  said  Crossdale. 
"Your  disguise  is  great!  The  Prime  Minister  wouldn't 
know  you." 

Korvan  had  taken  from  the  little  hanging  cupboard  near 
the  fire  a  jug,  into  which  he  poured  the  contents  of  a  brown 
bottle  of  ale;  he  cut  off  a  piece  of  bread,  put  a  big  piece  of 
cheese  on  it,  and  Sarvan,  turning  his  chair  to  the  table, 
littered  with  engineering  stuff,  ate  like  a  famished  man. 

"Your  Highness,"  Korvan  spoke  in  earnest,  tense  tones, 
"what  in  God's  name  shall  we  do  with  you?  You're  not 
safe  here  an  hour — not  fifteen  minutes." 

The  young  man,  who  was  pelting  down  the  food,  looked 
brightly  from  one  face  to  another,  although  his  eyes  were 
heavy  with  fatigue.  "Let  me  stretch  out  on  a  bed  a  few 
minutes,  then  I'll  be  off."  There  was  a  fire  about  him  that 
appealed  to  Crossdale  mightily. 

"I  wouldn't  get  Crossdale  into  trouble,"  said  the  Prince, 


234  THE    QUEEN    OF     KARMANIA 

knitting  his  brows,  "for  anything  on  earth.  I  should  not 
stay  here  an  hour." 

"Your  Highness,"  said  the  engineer,  "I  don't  mix  in 
your  politics,  but  I'll  be  damned  if  I  don't  give  you  my 
bed.  And  you  two  want  to  talk — I'll  go  into  the  royal  apart- 
ments and  leave  you  alone." 

"No,"  Korvan  put  his  hand  on  his  arm.  "Don't  leave 
us,  old  man.  A  moment  ago  you  said:  'Is  it  love  or 
politics?'  I'm  not  a  royalist;  I  am  a  democrat,  a  republican, 
a  follower  of  Prince  John.  I  have  been  meaning  to  tell  you 
for  a  long  time." 

The  Prince  walked  heavily  toward  the  door  of  the  little 
chamber  off  the  living  room.  "I  bear  a  charmed  life,  Cross- 
dale,  I  have  been  all  up  and  down  here  for  the  last  month. 
I  have  been  in  the  squad  of  workmen — you  engaged  me  the 
other  day  with  the  new  lot!  I  was  in  the  tunnel  when 
you  put  a  fuse — standing  within  fifty  feet  of  you.  Just  let 
me  have  the  feel  of  a  bed  again — " 

He  staggered  and  leaned  on  Korvan,  but  he  had  not  time 
to  cross  the  threshold  when  there  came  a  clear  rap  at  the 
door.  In  a  second  Korvan  had  pushed  him,  Crossdale 
threw  in  his  scarf  and  cap  after  him,  and  the  Karmanian 
had  scarcely  shut  the  door  when  Crossdale  opened  the  other 
to  admit  Refan  Ugo. 

The  spy,  looking  with  apparent  indifference  and  unre- 
marking  politeness  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  young  men, 
tranquilly  bade  them  good  evening.  "Sorry  to  make  such  a 
late  call,  but  I  have  received  a  royal  message  which  I  was 
obliged  to  bring  in  person." 

Korvan  invited  him  in  with  the  utmost  cordiality.    Cross- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  235 

dale  had  a  horrible  conviction  that  something  of  Prince  Sar- 
van's  had  been  left  for  the  spy  to  see,  but  he  did  not  dare 
to  glance  around.  The  little  room  seemed^to  dwindle  to 
the  men's  figures,  but  Refan  Ugo's  in  his  dark  cloak,  cold 
and  impassive,  seemed  the  most  effective  of  them  all. 

"I  won't  sit  down.  My  message  is  for  Lieutenant  Kor- 
van,"  and  he  fixed  Stanislas  with  undisguised  satisfaction. 
"His  Excellency,  the  Prime  Minister,  has  asked  me  to 
extend  you  an  invitation,  Lieutenant  Korvan — " 

"His  Excellency  is  very  kind,"  murmured  Korvan. 

Crossdale  understood  that  the  same  thrust  which  had 
been  dealt  to  Refan  Ugo  in  the  Queen's  lodge,  and  which 
had  put  Stanislas  Korvan  in  his  place,  was  to  be  dealt  now 
to  his  colleague. 

"You  are  to  be  the  guest  of  his  Excellency  for  several 
days  at  Pratz-Zenoe.  I  will  accompany  you  myself 
tomorrow,  Lieutenant  Korvan." 

Crossdale  saw  the  blow  tell,  as  Korvan  struggled  for  self- 
control.  He  said,  looking  at  the  American:  "Crossdale  can 
hardly  spare  me — we  have  pressing  work  on  the  Royal 
State  Railway." 

Ugo,  who  had  not  advanced  more  than  a  few  feet  from  the 
door,  now  put  his  hand  back  on  the  latch,  as  though  he 
contemplated  immediately  retiring.  "Lieutenant  Korvan, 
if  you  remember,  I  was  at  one  time  First  Secretary.  Now  I 
carry  messages  from  Her  Majesty  to  her  subjects." 

"Gad!"  thought  Crossdale.  "How  I'd  like  to  smash  his 
face  for  him  again!"  But  he  remained  silent,  quietly 
smoking.  "I  will  deal  with  you  later — God  give  me  long 
enough  life  to  wipe  up  a  few  feet  of  ground  with  you!"  He 


236  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

flicked  the  ashes  of  his  cigarette  into  the  fire,  listening  for 
some  sound  from  the  room  beyond. 

"You  will  be  ready  to  ride  with  me  to  Pratz-Zenoe 
tomorrow  at  ten,  Lieutenant  Korvan — Good-night.  Good- 
night, Mr.  Crossdale." 

When  he  had  gone  and  the  door  was  locked  behind  him 
Korvan  flew  to  the  bedroom,  looked  in  and  came  back  to 
his  friend,  his  face  working.  "He  is  sleeping,  Crossdale, 
like  a  boy  at  school." 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  minute  between  the  two  men  and 
then  Korvan  seized  the  American  by  the  hand  and  gripped 
it,  wrung  it.  "Old  sport !"  he  said.  "The  jig  is  up  with  me!" 

"You  mistrust  this  invitation  to  Pratz-Zenoe?" 

The  Karmanian  could  not  conceal  his  agitation.  He 
passed  his  hand  across  his  mouth  to  steady  it.  "Prince  Karol 
would  never  have  sent  for  me  if  he  hadn't  suspected  me.  It 
is  an  arrest."  He  leaned  against  the  table  and  began  to 
catch  at  control.  "He's  got  his  claws  on  me  lately,  Cross- 
dale.  I  have  done  the  devil  of  a  propaganda  here!  There 
isn't  a  workman  between  Roda  and  Mount  Nepta  who  isn't 
ours.  Karmania  is  rustling  like  wind  in  dry  wheat.  They 
may  get  me,  but  they  can't  get  the  Chief.  Sarvan  Sar- 
vanarof  is  a  wonder,  Prince  John  is  a  wonder!  We  only 
wait  our  time."  He  turned  with  passion  to  his  companion. 
"Crossdale,  you  won't  dabble  in  the  politics  of  our  country, 
but  you  serve.  Push  the  road,  rush  the  work — " 

Crossdale  burst  in  upon  him  with  a  laugh,  full  of  humor. 
"Old  top!  How  long  do  you  think  they'll  leave  me  on  my 
job?  I'm  next — sure  thing  now." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  237 

"No,"  said  Korvan  confidentially.  "You're  not  a  suspect. 
We  have  got  to  get  Sarvan  out  of  here  at  once." 

"Ah!"  cried  Crossdale,  "it's  too  late!"  Taking  Korvan 
by  the  cuff  of  his  coat,  he  pointed  with  his  other  hand 
toward  their  little  window.  "See  those  lights?  They  are 
lanterns  four  of  them!  They  are  coming  here." 

With  his  words  came  a  loud  blow  on  the  door  and  the 
summons  in  Karmanian:  "Heljenl  Open  in  the  name  of  the 
Queen!" 

Four  men  entered  in  the  dress  of  the  Queen's  Guard,  and 
if  the  little  room  had  seemed  insignificant  and  the  merest 
scenic  background  before,  it  was  more  than  ever  so  now. 

He  heard  Korvan  deny  the  presence  of  the  Prince.  The 
men  looked  at  each  other  and  then  at  Crossdale.  Korvan 
said  in  English:  "No  one  has  been  here  tonight  but  the 
Queen's  messenger,  Refan  Ugo." 

Crossdale  nodded  serenely,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
he  looked  from  one  to  another  of  the  men,  whose  faces  were 
so  serious,  whose  costume  was  so  brilliant  and  theatrical. 

"Home  and  mother,  the  United  States  and  San  Francisco, 
seem  very  far  away,  Korvan,  but  I  think  I  can  lie  as  well  as 
the  next  one  when  it  comes  to  it!" 

He  made  an  impressive  negative  gesture  to  the  Chief 
of  Police  and  his  men.  Crossdale  was  practical  and  cate- 
gorical, and  the  men  appeared  to  believe  him.  He  was 
extremely  popular  in  the  province  of  Cye. 

He  smiled  at  the  Chief.  "There's  not  a  soul  in  the  house 
but  ourselves!  You  can  search  from  the  turret  to  the 
dungeon."  And  nodding  and  smiling  agreeably,  he  with- 
drew as  an  American  citizen  and  a  foreigner  from  the 


238  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

intrigues  of  Central  Europe  went  back  to  the  bench,  sat 
down  on  it  and  prepared  to  fill  his  pipe.  But  he  was  keyed 
up  to  the  highest  pitch. 

;The  Chief  of  Police  conveyed  to  Korvan  the  informa- 
tion that  it  was  his  duty  as  an  effective  Guard  of  the  Queen 
to  search  the  hut,  and  Crossdale,  calling  upon  the  good  luck 
that  follows  heroes  to  protect  them  now,  caressed  the  bowl 
of  his  pipe  and  stared  at  Sarvan's  guitar  over  in  the  corner. 

The  Chief  of  Police  opened  the  door  into  the  bedroom 
and  went  in,  followed  by  his  men.  There  was  a  silence,  a 
few  Karmanian  gutterals  from  the  bedroom,  and  the  search 
party  returned,  affable,  beaming,  laughing  and  apologetic. 

From  their  quiet  re-entrance  the  two  men  understood  that 
the  room  was  empty  and  that  the  young  man,  whom  Kor- 
van had  seen  twenty  minutes  before  sleeping  on  his  face 
like  a  boy  at  school,  had  been  able  to  effect  his  escape. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

ONLY  THE  CONFIDENT  AND  THE  DESPAIRING  KNOW  HOW 
TO  WAIT.    (KARMANIAN  PROVERB.) 

The  following  day  was  superb,  one  of  the  bright  mid- 
November  days  that  in  this  southern  valley  glowed  as 
warm  as  midsummer.  In  the  distance,  sapphire  blue,  rose 
the  little  range  at  the  foot  of  which  nestled  the  spa  of  Pratz- 
Zenoe,  only  to  be  reached  by  special  passport  from  the 
Queen,  and  between  Cye  and  Pratz-Zenoe  rolled  the  color- 
ful steppes.  Toward  this  destination  Crossdale  saw  Kor- 
van  ride  off  under  escort.  It  had  been  a  very  strange  affair 
altogether — Korvan's  "invitation"  and  his  departure. 
Neither  of  the  two  friends  showed  any  unrest  or  uneasiness, 
although  Korvan  was  desperate  and  Crossdale  had  a  pretty 
good  idea  of  what  a  royal  invitation  in  this  sense  might 
mean.  Captain  Ugo  was  not  visible.  All  night  long  a 
guard  had  spent  the  hours  between  Ugo's  disappearance 
and  the  dawn  astride  of  a  chair,  smoking  filthy  tobacco,  in 
their  cosy  little  study.  Korvan  and  he  had  not  been  able 
to  exchange  an  intimate  word  further  than  this:  Korvan 
put  a  letter  in  a  blank  envelope  and  sealed  in  the  Ameri- 
can's hand,  and  in  English  said: 

"If  I  never  come  back,  old  chap,  see  this  letter  finds  its 
way  to  the  proper  person.  Open  it  and  you  will  discover 
who  the  person  is."  This  was  the  second  time  that  Cross- 
dale  had  been  made  a  messenger  in  this  kingdom,  and  he 


240  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

hoped  to  heaven  he  would  never  have  to  carry  out  this 
mission. 

After  Korvan's  departure  he  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  himself,  and  for  the  first  time  felt  most  desperately 
lonely  and  out  of  sorts  with  Karmania  in  the  general 
sense  of  the  word.  If  men  could  be  transported  in  twenty- 
four  hours'  time  out  of  their  environment  in  such  a  sum- 
mary way,  what  could  ensure  his  personal  safety?  The 
Queen!  Only  her  favor. 

He  could  not  stay  another  moment  in  the  little  desolate 
house,  from  which  his  companion  had  been  taken  forcibly 
away.  He  shut  his  cabin  door,  turned  the  key  in  it,  and 
went  over  to  his  railroad  shacks,  a  twenty  minutes'  walk 
through  a  field  path,  across  the  high  road,  to  the  settle- 
ments of  shanties  and  the  barracks,  where  materials  and 
machinery  and  engines  and  cars  were  grouped  around  the 
yawning  mouth  of  Mount  Nepta's  tunnel. 

He  went  whistling,  keeping  up  a  certain  run  of  spirits. 
But  his  anxiety  about  Korvan's  fate  did  not  hold  all  his 
thoughts.  They  went  to  the  Woman,  with  force  and  vigor, 
and  he  set  them  free.  She  absorbed  him,  and  the  tre- 
mendous swing  of  his  feelings  and  the  relief  that  it  was  to 
think  of  her,  even  although  he  had  no  good  reason  for  hope, 
proved  how  sincere  his  passion  was.  His  mind  was  full  of 
the  images  she  created,  the  picture  of  her  as  he  had  seen 
her  first,  in  her  peasant  dress,  with  that  brilliant  blue  apron 
across  her  breast. 

She  seemed,  oh,  so  often  in  his  dreams,  to  laugh  at  him 
from  the  doorway  of  her  dairy,  hands  on  hips,  the  rose  at 
her  breast. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  241 

Then  the  lovely  lady  that  she  was  in  truth,  behind  the 
shining  samovar,  conventional,  but  none  the  less  bewitch- 
ing, fascinating,  magnetic.  Then  the  hunting  girl,  sitting  in 
the  little  room  of  his  brown  hut,  with  the  dark  stained  walls 
about  her  bright  figure  in  the  pink  coat,  and  her  brilliant, 
sparkling  face  lifted  to  him!  Had  she  not  been  too  splendid 
for  words,  coming  like  that,  frankly,  sincerely,  putting  his 
loyalty  and  his  fidelity  up  to  him? 

Intrigues  and  state  affairs  might  surround  him;  Kar- 
mania  might  be  on  the  verge  of  revolution,  but  he  could 
think  of  nothing  as  he  thought  of  her.  She  hammered 
with  the  insistence  of  love  at  every  part  of  his  being. 
Decidedly  it  was  because  of  her  interest  that  his  "press" 
was  so  good  at  court.  Oh,  if  anxiety  for  his  safety  would 
only  bring  her  back!  Back  into  his  little  hut,  he  would 
never  let  her  go  again! 

Crossdale  came  down  through  the  sunlight  to  the  works, 
and  saw  the  one-track  railroad  shining  away  in  the  brilliant 
day  towards  Roda.  He  turned  from  field  to  high  road — 
was  within  a  few  minutes  of  his  little  office  near  the  mouth 
of  the  tunnel — and  heard  the  drills,  the  voices  of  the  work- 
men, and  stopped  to  look  at  the  busy  scene.  Smoke  from 
the  buildings  rose  limpid  and  translucent  on  the  air.  He 
was  proud  of  his  achievement.  He  could  begin  to  see  the 
finish  of  his  enterprise. 

Several  people  were  standing  without  his  little  office — 
O'Dell — but  the  second  overseer  generally  there  was  absent — 
a  woman  in  English  tweed  walking  dress,  cape  over  her 
shoulders,  stiff  little  cap  on  her  head,  crinkly  chamois  walk- 
ing gloves  and  a  walking  stick,  stood  talking  very  seriously 


242  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

with  O'Dell,  whose  attitude  was  one  of  rigid  attention.  She 
seemed  to  command  him,  to  give  him  orders,  to  insist,  and 
he  bowed  in  acceptance  of  whatever  her  commands  might 
be. 

The  American  hurried  as  fast  as  was  compatible  with 
dignity,  and  her  face  grew  bright  as  he  came  up.  She  put 
out  her  hand  in  its  crinkly  glove.  "Good  morning.  I  have 
just  been  telling  Mr.  O'Dell  that  you  are  going  to  take 
me  over  the  Royal  State  Railroad,  aren't  you — show  me 
everything  from  start  to  finish?"  She  glanced  at  O'Dell 
with  a  meaning  which  Crossdale  did  not  understand. 
"Show  me  everything  that  Lieutenant  Korvan  showed  the 
Queen." 

He  was  obliged  to  let  her  hand  fall  and  in  contained, 
commonplace  words  to  tell  her  that  he  would  be  delighted. 
"I  will  take  you,"  he  said,  "to  the  very  core  of  Mount 
Nepta,  as  far  in  as  the  tunnel  goes — why  not?  With  a 
lantern  on  your  cap  and  a  torch  at  your  side!  And  when  we 
come  out  I  will  blow  up  a  section  in  your  honor,  and  you 
shall  hear  what  the  dynamite  has  to  say  to  that  ancient 
rock.  In  short,"  he  finished,  for  something  else  to  say,  "you 
shall  be  served  as  royally  as  the  Queen." 

She  blushed,  and  answered  quickly:  "Of  course!  But  I 
am  of  the  royal  household,  and  you  must  not  be  surprised 
if  they  treat  me  with  great  deference  as  we  go." 

Whilst  Crossdale  gave  his  orders  for  the  guides  and 
for  the  cortege  to  take  them  in,  O'Dell  told  him  hurriedly 
in  an  undertone  that  the  second  overseer  had  been  trans- 
ported to  Pratz-Zenoe  in  the  same  caravan  with  Korvan,  an 
invitation  from  the  authorities  in  the  South. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  243 

That  night  he  came  back  to  his  lonely  cabin  mad  with 
hope  and  utterly  happy.  If  a  bomb  had  blown  up  the  Royal 
State  Railway  works  and  carried  his  own  cabin  up  into  the 
air  with  it,  he  would  probably  have  caught  and  held  a  star 
in  his  flight,  and  gone  on  with  his  dream. 

He  found  his  little  fire  lit  and  waiting,  and  a  savory 
supper  prepared  by  the  faithful  Serga,  and,  like  two  pre- 
historic creatures  in  the  tiny  room,  his  beloved  dogs  waited 
for  him.  He  went  into  the  bedroom,  which  he  had  shared 
with  Korvan,  took  the  hot  tub  which  Serga  had  ready, 
shaved  and  made  a  complete  and  restful  toilet,  and  came 
out  refreshed,  his  senses  singing  and  his  brain  active  and 
keen,  and  withal  in  a  state  of  wonderful  vibration.  He  ate 
and  sat  down  before  his  fire  to  smoke  and  to  dream.  He 
was  alone  with  his  dogs,  with  his  memories  of  the  long, 
perfect  day.  He  forgot  that  Prince  Sarvan  had  tossed  dice 
for  life  and  death  here  in  this  room  the  night  before. 

She  had  stayed  with  him  all  day.  He  had  shown  her  all 
there  was  to  be  seen  of  the  work  on  the  Royal  State  Rail- 
road. As  he  thought  back  he  realized  that  everyone  had 
stood  aside  to  leave  them  alone.  They  treated  her  with 
deference,  but  he  noticed  nothing  special  and  she  had  been 
cold,  distant,  reserved,  showing  in  her  glance  and  by  her 
gesture  her  desire  to  be  alone  with  her  guide.  His  work 
became  a  real,  an  animate  thing  to  him  under  her  intelli- 
gence and  enthusiasm.  She  insisted  upon  going  to  Roda 
with  him  from  Cye  on  one  of  the  small  hand  cars.  It  amused 
her  to  see  it  worked  by  the  brake.  She  had  the  men  of  his 
staff  dismissed  definitely,  and  issued  her  commands  as 
though  indeed  she  were  part  of  the  royal  household.  Cross- 


244  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

dale  had  found  himself  toward  noon  on  a  hand  car  with  his 
guest,  and  a  Karmanian  workman  in  native  costume  driving 
them  like  mad  down  the  single  track  to  Roda.  He  had 
telephoned  to  keep  the  way  free,  and  so  they  flew.  And 
she  was  wild  about  it,  delighted  with  it,  and  had  not  been 
satisfied  until  they  had  slowed  and  she  had  taken  the  Kar- 
manian's  place,  and  with  Stephen's  help  she  had  driven  the 
hand  car  the  last  half  mile  of  the  way.  He  could  close  his 
eyes  and  hear  her  laugh  aloud  as  they  drove,  the  wind  in 
their  faces,  flying  between  the  barren  fields.  He  could  feel 
her  touch  at  his  side  and  hear  her  voice:  "Faster!  It  is 
great  sport!  Faster!" 

Serga — noiseless,  impassive,  in  his  soft  leather  slippers — 
cleared  away  the  remains  of  his  master's  supper,  whilst 
Crossdale,  with  a  dog  on  one  side  and  another  with  his 
nose  between  his  feet,  relived  the  story  of  his  perfect  day. 

But  he  was  conscious  that  the  servant  waited  in  the  most 
humble  attitude  of  appeal,  and  he  glanced  up,  impatient  at 
any  interruption  of  his  thoughts.  "Excellence,"  said  the 
man  in  broken  English,  "does  his  Excellence  think  that 
Lieutenant  Korvan  will  come  back?" 

He  saw  the  man's  eyes  fill  with  moisture  and  he  remem- 
bered his  friend  with  a  pang.  "What  a  selfish  hound  I  am!" 
He  comforted  Serga  as  well  as  he  could  and  the  man  slipped 
out  noiselessly,  and  Crossdale  went  back  to  his  dream. 

In  the  little  inn  at  Roda,  the  same  wayside  station  where 
he  had  stopped  as  he  had  caravaned  in  from  Tamaresk, 
he  had  eaten  a  midday  meal  with  her  at  a  rough  table  with 
no  cloth;  with  pewter  plates  and  pewter  mugs;  and  they 
drank  country  beer  and  ate  bread  and  cheese  and  sausage; 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  245 

and  he  watched  her,  scarcely  touching  the  food,  carried 
away  by  her  charm. 

Everywhere  they  went  the  people  eyed  her  curiously  and 
disappeared  as  if  by  magic  to  leave  them  alone.  And  whilst 
they  ate,  the  native  musicians  had  played  the  Queen's  songs. 
Reliving  it  he  forgot  everything  else.  He  forgot  that  Jeff 
Robinson  had  been  missing  from  Roda  for  three  days  and 
the  fact  that  his  own  safety  was  not  assured;  he  forgot  Kor- 
van.  Everything  was  obliterated  by  this  absorbing,  pas- 
sionate interest. 

"Tell  your  man  to  drive  you  to  the  Prime  Minister's  rest- 
house  in  your  treja  tomorrow.  Be  there  at  one  and  then 
dismiss  him." 

She  had  said  this  to  him  before  the  "Silver  Horn"  at  Cye, 
where  he  had  left  her,  where  she  had  met  her  own  treja  and 
the  servants  of  the  Queen's  household.  He  could  not  have 
sat  down  to  his  table  and  have  lost  himself  in  computations 
and  mathematics  to  have  saved  his  soul.  He  picked  up 
Sarvan's  guitar,  tuned  it  and  began  to  touch  the  string,  and 
he  found  the  chords  of  Karmen  Mara's  song,  which  until 
now  he  had  never  played: 

"What  shall  I  give  him 

Who  comes  so  far  and  so  gladly? 

A  gift  for  a  stranger, 

A  gift  for  a  rider, 

I  will  give  him  that  which  I  have  kept  for  him, 
that  which  my  mother  gave  me. 

What  is  this  gift?    The  heart  in  my  breast. 

When  he  feels  it  he  will  count  its  beating." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

WHEN  YOUR  NEIGHBOR'S  WIFE  HAS  HONEY  AND  FIRE  ON 

HER  LIPS,  A  WISE  MAN  WAITS  TILL  HER  HUSBAND  GOES 

ON  A  JOURNEY.     (KARMANIAN  PROVERB.) 

Crossdale  dismissed  his  treja.  "Skarervaro!  Skarervaro 
batuchi!"  he  said  to  the  old  peasant  in  the  door  of  Karol's 
rest  house.  The  old  creature  this  time  did  not  wield  a  pan- 
cake turner,  but  he  might  have  been  standing  there,  gazing 
at  the  forest  for  who  should  come  and  go  ever  since  the 
fatal  day  of  Paul's  accident  in  September.  Skarervaro 
batuchi  means:  "May  you  inherit  money  from  your 
enemies  and  preserve  as  long  as  you  live  your  teeth  and 
your  eyesight."  After  having  made  this  friendly  wish 
Crossdale  saw  how  futile  it  was,  for  the  old  peasant  had  not 
a  tooth  in  his  head  and  he  stared  out  of  bleared  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  expects  me,"  the  American 
thought,  "or  whether  he  looks  for  anything  but  the  end  of 
the  world,  but  here  I  am." 

The  bells  died  away.  The  wonderful  autumn  forests  were 
around  him,  brown  rabbits  ran  across  the  piney  ground,  the 
trees  came  up  to  the  very  door  of  the  tiny  hut.  Here  he 
stood,  according  to  her  expressed  wish!  It  seemed  too -good 
to  be  true!  He  asked  himself  for  the  hundredth  time: 
"What  is  it  going  to  mean?" 

Now  treja  bells,  faint  at  first,  then  louder,  clamoring,  cry- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  247 

ing  as  they  rang  from  the  collars  of  her  horses,  smote  him 
through  with  sound,  and  swinging  out  into  the  broad  path 
before  the  hut,  drawn  by  two  stocky  Cossack  horses,  a 
sledge  jangled  up  before  the  rest  house,  and  Crossdale  saw 
that  she  was  alone,  except  for  Griffen  by  her  side  on  the 
front  seat.  She  was  driving  the  stallions  herself  in  great 
form,  and  as  she  drew  up  she  waved  her  whip  and  Griffen 
sprang  out  and  came  rushing  to  him.  He  went  to  her  and 
bent  over  her  hand  in  its  thick  white  glove. 

"We'll  put  Griffen  in  the  back  seat,"  she  said,  uand  then 
you  will  let  me  show  you  how  the  ponies  take  to  the 
steppes!  Come!" 

And  before  he  could  realize  his  fortune  he  was  by  her 
side,  Griffen  half  on  the  seat  and  half  on  the  floor,  making 
the  best  he  could  of  his  quarters;  and  she  had  whirled  her 
black  horses  about  and  cracked  her  whip  over  their  heads, 
calling  to  them  in  the  rich  voice  she  had  when  she  spoke  her 
native  tongue:  "Mija!  Mija!"  And  the  horses  seemed  to 
crouch  for  a  spring  and  were  off.  The  treja  slid  over  the  pine 
needles,  and  Crossdale  saw  that  the  bits  of  the  stallions 
were  cruel;  otherwise  she  could  never  have  managed  them. 

The  day  was  warm  with  noon  sunlight.  She  wore  no 
furs,  but  a  loose-fitting  little  coat  of  green  with  a  high 
military  collar  and  a  little  round  black  cap  of  astrachan 
close  over  her  hair.  From  the  back  of  her  seat  hung  a 
coat  lined  with  sable.  She  sat  up  trim  and  slim  as  a  boy. 

"I  usually  drive  four  horses."  She  had  not  once  turned 
her  face  toward  him,  but  he  was  drinking  in  every  line  of 
her  body,  the  texture  of  her  neck,  the  rich  color  under  her 
cheek,  the  lines  of  her  soft,  red  mouth,  her  beautiful  fea- 


248  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

tures,  with  the  cheek  bones  too  high  for  any  race  but  that 
of  the  Slav. 

They  slipped  and  glided  on,  the  horses'  feet  making 
scarcely  any  sound  in  the  deep  path.  On  either  side  of  them 
rose  the  aisles  of  the  pines  and  cedars  with  pink  and  purple 
trunks,  until  the  eyes  fairly  ached  following  the  vistas, 
broken,  again  carried  on,  the  spaces  found  and  lost. 

"I  love  these  forests,"  he  murmured,  "but  I'd  like  to  show 
you  our  lands — the  prairies!  I'd  like  you  to  see  the  way  my 
own  ranch  looked  the  June  night  I  left  it  to  come  out  here." 

"You  left  your  land  to  come  to  Karmania.  Tell  me 
something  about  America." 

He  hesitated.  What  could  he  tell  this  child  of  an  Oriental 
land  about  the  western  hemisphere?  She  could  not  under- 
stand its  ideals  or  its  dreams;  she  was  a  part  of  this  old 
tapestry. 

"It's  a  great  land  to  be  born  in — the  only  place  I'd  want 
to  be  born  in  or  come  from.  And  yet — " 

"You  wouldn't  want  to  live  in  Karmania  always?" 

He  gave  a  little  laugh.     "Live  in  Karmania!" 

The}7  made  a  wide  swinging  sweep  out  from  the  forest  and 
he  saw  the  steppes  again.  She  drew  her  horses  up  and 
pointed  with  her  whip  to  the  inland  sea. 

"It's  not  cattle  country,  but  it's  beautiful  in  its  way." 

It  was  like  looking  on  a  golden  sea,  in  the  full  bright 
moonlight  of  an  Indian  summer,  the  mist  shot  through  with 
gold.  His  companion  stood  up  in  the  sledge,  wound  the 
reins  around  her  wrists,  put  her  right  foot  a  bit  forward  and 
stood  so,  braced,  turning  her  face  for  the  first  time  fully  to 
Crossdale,  and  he  saw  it  in  its  brightness,  in  its  witchery 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  249 

and  charm,  flushed,  gay,  her  gray  eyes  full  of  light  and 
laughter. 

"I  am  going  to  show  you  what  my  Cossack  ponies  can 
do!" 

She  called  to  them  in  her  rich  voice,  and  the  horses 
sprang  forward,  dragging  the  treja  after  them  into  the 
golden  mist  of  the  steppe.  With  one  bound  Griffen  leaped 
from  the  back  of  the  sledge  and  he  coursed  and  raced 
alongside,  his  long  nose  stretched  forward,  like  a  mad 
thing  toward  an  unseen  horizon. 

The  American  braced  himself.  They  went  like  mad,  the 
girl's  figure,  in  its  loose  tunic  and  its  short  skirt  above  the 
high  leather  Cossack  boots,  was  fully  displayed  in  her  poise 
for  balance.  It  was  a  sledge  chariot  race,  a  mad,  mad  race. 
At  times  they  flew  through  fog,  and  then  again  it  would 
blow  back  and  the  view  be  unbroken.  She  called  to  him: 
"Do  you  like  it?"  And  he  cried  to  her:  "Great!  Wonder- 
ful!" and  saw  that  she  could  control  her  horses,  understood 
them,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  fascination  of  the  drive. 

After  a  little  she  drew  her  stallions  down,  their  bodies 
dripping  and  the  foam  clinging  like  cotton  to  their  breasts 
and  bellies.  She  drew  them  back  on  their  haunches,  accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  the  country,  like  dogs,  wound  her  reins 
around  the  whip  and  sank  in  her  seat,  drawing  in  long 
breaths  of  delight.  Turning  her  brilliant  face  to  him,  sud- 
denly she  drew  off  her  thick  white  gloves  and  dropped 
them  on  the  floor  of  the  treja  and  held  out  both  her  hands: 
"See!" 

How  they  trembled!  He  seized  them.  He  saw  how  fast 
she  was  breathing  and  that  she  had  been  whipped  and 


250  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

stimulated  by  the  delight  of  the  motion.  Griffen  had 
thrown  himself  down  by  the  side  of  the  treja,  panting, 
exhausted,  his  tongue  hanging  out  of  his  mouth.  In 
another  moment  she  had  torn  her  hands  away,  sprung  out 
of  the  treja  and  he  followed  her.  She  stood  for  a  moment, 
then  stretched  out  her  arms  as  though  she  would  embrace 
the  sweep  of  the  mysterious  land,  and  as  she  shook  her  head 
back  with  a  little  eager  gesture  her  small  cap  fell  to  the 
ground. 

"Let  it  go!    Let  it  go!     I  want  to  be  free!" 

He  watched  her  as  one  might  watch  a  fantasy,  a  dream. 
Since  they  had  been  driving,  since  their  mad  race,  she  had 
scarcely  seemed  a  real  thing  to  him.  She  seemed  the  essence 
of  fire  and  feeling,  but  strangely  apart.  She  glanced  him 
over  from  head  to  foot.  He  was  dressed  in  a  country  suit 
of  tweeds,  with  knickerbockers  and  a  soft  cap,  which,  as 
hers  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  he  tossed  upon  the  seat  of  the 
sledge. 

She  nodded  at  him  a  challenge,  a  call  to  the  youth  of  him : 
"Can  you  run?  Do  you  like  to  run?  Catch  me,  then!"  And 
she  had  started  to  run  across  the  steppes. 

Running  was  one  of  the  things  he  liked  best  in  the  way 
of  sport,  but  he  had  to  run  well  in  order  to  keep  pace  with 
that  flying  bird.  She  scarcely  seemed  to  touch  the  dust  of 
the  steppes  with  her  slender  feet  in  their  soft  black  boots. 
He  had  never  seen  anything  so  vibrant,  so  magnetic  as  the 
lithe  running  figure  he  pursued. 

She  ran  like  a  boy,  but  he  caught  her,  holding  her  wrists 
in  his  pulsing  palms.  He  saw  the  breath  come  short  to  her 
parted  lips,  her  head  up,  though  the  color  had  not  stayed 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  251 

with  her.  She  was  his  captive,  with  her  small  brilliant  head 
high  and  her  eyes  half-defiant  and  half-demanding. 

He  kissed  her  once  upon  the  lips,  and  then  put  his  arms 
around  her  waist  and  held  her,  looking  down  at  her.  He  had 
never  looked  so  into  any  human  face.  And  again  he  kissed 
her,  standing  close  to  her  in  that  wide  isolation.  She  did 
not  return  his  caresses,  but  stood  like  a  figure  of  stone.  But 
the  touch  of  her  and  the  feel  of  her  was  human  and  mar- 
vellous and  her  lips  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  him  to 
drink.  Then  she  tore  herself  from  him  and  began  to  run 
back. 

He  hardly  pursued  her  until  she  quieted  down  and  fell 
into  a  walk,  her  hands  loosely  at  her  sides  and  her  head  bent 
forward.  He  let  her  go  before  him  to  the  treja.  He  could 
not  find  words  in  any  language  to  say  what  he  wanted  to 
say  to  her.  She  unwound  her  reins,  picked  up  her  cap  and 
put  it  firmly  on  her  head,  found  her  soiled  gloves,  all 
marked  with  the  reins,  on  the  floor  of  the  treja,  and  drew 
them  on  slowly,  Crossdale  watching  her,  dumb  with  passion. 
She  got  into  the  low  sledge  from  her  side,  Griffen  sprang 
behind  them,  and  the  American  took  the  sable-lined  cloak 
and  wrapped  it  round  her  and  held  her  closely  to  him.  But 
he  did  not  kiss  her  again,  and  still  she  was  as  though  she 
were  made  of  stone  in  his  arms. 

It  had  been  one  o'clock  when  they  left  the  rest-house  and 
it  was  only  three  now,  and  they  drove  back  into  the  woods 
before  the  shadows  found  them. 

"It  will  come — the  parting — I  shall  have  to  leave  her. 
Before  we  part  I  shall  know  what  to  say." 

But  although  they  drove  in  silence  he  felt  the  most  perfect 


252  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

harmony,  the  most  complete  and  unbroken  atmosphere.  He 
had  directed  his  treja  to  meet  him  at  the  rest-house  at  four. 
He  was  waiting  for  some  sign  from  her  before  he  could 
speak. 

And  it  came.  As  they  glided  over  the  satin  ground  of  the 
last  alley,  before  the  curve  around  which  the  rest-house 
became  visible,  the  girl  turned  her  face  and  he  saw  it, 
beautiful,  grave,  with  eyes  like  stars.  She  leaned  toward 
him,  and  he,  with  a  low  exclamation,  put  his  arms  about 
her  as  she  drove  and  took  from  her  then  the  kisses  that  she 
was  ready  to  give.  He  knew  that  in  all  his  life — until  he 
should  be,  if  he  lived,  an  old,  old  man,  there  would  never  be 
another  moment  like  this. 

"I  can  never  leave  you!"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "Never!" 

"You  must.  My  people  will  meet  me  here  in  a  few 
moments." 

He  put  his  hands  over  hers  that  held  the  reins,  finding  her 
slender  wrists  under  the  gauntlet  of  the  thick  white  gloves. 

"I  can  never  find  my  way  again  unless  you  walk  it  with 
me — never!"  And  all  of  a  sudden  he  was  conscious  that 
she  caught  her  breath  with  a  sob.  She  shook  her  head  and 
tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  now  the  color  flooded  her 
cheeks  which  had  been  so  pale. 

"Go!"  she  commanded  him,  stamping  on  the  floor  of  the 
treja  with  her  foot.  "Go  at  once!  Don't  linger  another 
moment.  They  must  not  see  you  with  me  here — go!" 

From  the  distance  came  the  long  silver  note  of  a  hunting 
horn.  She  gathered  up  her  reins  and  whip,  and  her  low 
voice  thrilled  him  through:  "If  you  care  for  me  as  you  seem 
to,  trust  me  to  find  the  way." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  253 

As  he  went,  because  he  knew  that  she  wished  him  to  dis- 
appear before  the  others  came,  whoever  they  were,  to 
find  her  and  protect  her,  he  could  hear  the  ever  nearing 
call  of  the  hunting  horn. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

ANY  WOMAN  MAY  BECOME  A  QUEEN, 

BUT  A  QUEEN  MAY  NOT  ALWAYS  BE  A  WOMAN 

(KARMANIAN  PROVERB) 

Prince  Karol  was  frightfully  angry,  but  he  was  obliged  to 
remain  patiently  attentive  until  the  Queen  had  finished  her 
song.  He  had  come  to  see  her  as  head  of  the  kingdom  and 
he  knew  that  his  diplomacy  would  be  put  to  a  severe  test. 
With  a  guitar  slung  over  her  shoulder  she  stood  singing 
with  her  musicians,  at  one  end  of  the  music  room,  trying  one 
of  her  new  songs. 

He  could  not  but  acknowledge  how  changed  for  the 
better  the  young  Queen  was.  She  was  more  human,  more 
enchanting;  she  seemed  to  have  taken  upon  herself  a  new 
dignity,  even  with  him.  She  was  very  different,  this  royal 
creatress  and  musician,  from  the  wild  girl  of  the  treja  ride 
and  the  race  on  the  Steppes.  She  was  absorbed  in  an  art 
of  which  she  was  mistress.  Her  beauty  and  her  fascination 
were  at  their  best.  But  Prince  Karol  was  not  swayed  by 
her  in  the  least.  She  finished  her  song,  put  the  guitar  on 
the  piano,  dismissed  the  players,  and  the  Premier  came 
forward. 

Under  the  long  window  overlooking  the  brown  tower  and 
Mount  Nepta  ran  a  deep  seat,  covered  with  brocade  cushions 
in  violet,  old-rose-and-gold — priceless  brocades  brought  from 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  255 

the  Orient  in  the  days  when  the  Crusaders  came  back  from 
Jerusalem.  The  Queen  sat  down  here,  motioning  her  uncle 
to  sit  by  her  side,  linked  her  hands  around  her  knee,  her 
white  fingers  bright  against  her  black  dress.  She  waited 
for  the  sermon  which  she  knew  was  to  come,  and  which  she 
had  determined  to  take  in  the  worst  possible  grace. 

On  the  way  from  his  palace  to  the  castle  Karol  had  been 
wondering  how  to  affect  the  Queen — capricious,  wilful,  every 
day  gaining  greater  power  with  her  Parliament  and  the 
people,  as  every  day  his  own  popularity  waned.  He  could 
never  treat  her  as  a  merely  headstrong  girl,  as  he  wanted  to 
do.  She  was  adored  from  mountain  to  river;  she  had 
become  the  people's  idol,  and  he  was  too  wise  not  to  know 
that  without  Karmen  Mara  for  figure  head,  the  ship  of 
state  would  go  on  the  rocks.  He  opened  his  campaign 
violently.  Her  quiet  beauty  irritated  him.  "Your  Majesty, 
you  have  forgotten  that  you  are  a  Queen." 

Her  long  black  dress,  which  clung  close  to  her  figure, 
was  relieved  at  the  neck  by  a  heavy  band  of  marvellous 
embroidery.  She  held  her  chin  high;  she  wound  her  fingers 
in  the  long  chain  of  pearls  which  she  always  wore,  and 
instead  of  meeting  her  uncle's  furious  eyes,  with  madden- 
ing indifference  she  fixed  her  own  on  the  portraits  on  the 
wall,  a  long  row  of  portraits  of  the  chiefs  of  the  family  of 
which  she  had  become  so  arbitrarily  a  member.  With  a 
slight  shrug  and  unruffled  composure  she  answered:  "I  have 
forgotten  that  I  am  a  Queen  possibly  because  for  the  first 
time  I  have  remembered  that  I  am  a  woman." 

The  Premier  laughed  slightly.  "There  is  no  contingency 
possible  to  imagine,  Karmen  Mara,  in  which  the  woman  at 


256  THE    QUEEN  OF     KARMANIA 

the  head  of  her  kingdom  has  a  right  to  forget  her  dignity 
and  her  people.  Above  all,"  he  continued,  "in  this  moment, 
when  we  need  all  our  force  to  control  circumstances.  You 
will  deflect  from  your  power,  you  will  tarnish  your  popu- 
larity; these  sheep  will  cease  to  follow  you,  you  will  imperil 
the  state." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  toss  of  her  charming  head,  "how 
well  you  speak!  You  should  write  a  rhetoric,  Uncle  Karol! 
Your  choice  of  words  is  so  extraordinarily  fit.  The  subject 
unfortunately  does  not  warrant  all  this  hyperbole!"  Her 
cheeks  reddened.  From  the  crown  of  her  dark  head  to  the 
pointed  toe  of  her  black  little  slipper,  with  its  gleaming 
buckle,  she  was  truly  royal  this  afternoon.  An  artist  on 
the  Rue  de  la  Paix  in  Paris  had  created  her  gown  for  her. 
Two  pearls  hung  from  her  ears,  and  from  her  neck  to  her 
waist  the  chain  of  black  and  white  pearls,  famous  in  the 
history  of  the  crown  jewels,  relieved  the  austere  simplicity 
of  her  dress. 

"A  woman,"  said  her  uncle,  "always  makes  the  excuse  of 
her  sex  for  her  follies.  Why  should  she  not  use  it  as  a  stimu- 
lant for  her  sacrifices,  her  renunciations  and  her  duties?" 

"Finer  and  finer!"  exclaimed  Karmen  Mara.  "You 
improve  as  you  go  on  Uncle  Karol!  But  your  words  are 
quite  wasted — I  know  all  that  you  wish  to  say,  all  that  you 
would  insinuate.  I  have  been  made  the  victim  of  fate,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  have  had  no  legitimate  life  and  no 
love,  and  I  am  only  twenty-eight.  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
remember;  I  state  the  unimportant  fact." 

Karol  saw  that  whatever  his  method  had  been,  it  was  a 
poor  one,  that  it  would  have  no  effect  on  her  whatsoever. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  257 

Her  voice  was  as  cold  and  as  hard  as  the  mica  that  Cross- 
dale  was  blowing  out  of  his  tunnel. 

"But  you  shall  hear  me,"  he  exclaimed,  lifting  his  hand 
in  a  compelling  gesture.  "I  speak  for  the  people,  for  your 
husband's  memory.  You  are  making  yourself  the  common 
talk  of  the  country." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "I  command  you  to  be  still!"  she 
exclaimed,  and  took  a  few  steps  away  from  him,  her  long 
arms  behind  her  back,  her  head  bent  a  little.  Then  she 
returned,  standing  in  front  of  him,  as  a  girl  at  school  might 
have  done,  defending  herself  in  some  girlish  escapade. 

"Ridiculous!  A  mountain  out  of  a  mole  hill!  The  perils 
of  the  kingdom  are  more  interesting,  they  are  vital!  How 
can  you  speak  of  my  poor  amusements?  I  have  seen  a  man, 
a  gentleman,  honorable,  a  few  times — capriciously,  I  admit ! 
Unconventional — yes!  But  there  has  been  no  harm  in  it.  I 
might  have  eaten  tea  and  toast  with  him  here  in  the  peacock 
room  under  your  chaperonage — but  it  is  dull,  dull  as  all 
my  life  has  been!  I  have  been  always  incognito;  Mr.  Cross- 
dale  is  an  American  and  does  not  know  who  I  am,  anyway." 

He  smiled  subtly.  "My  dear,  you  are  not  so  naive  as 
to  think  that  this  foreigner  does  not  know  with  whom  he  has 
been  flirting?" 

"But  I  assure  you  he  does  not.  He  has  thought  from  the 
first  that  I  am  Mariska." 

"You  are  blind!"  exclaimed  the  Prime  Minister.  "This 
masquerade  has  clouded  your  usual  good  sense!  This 
engineer  will  boast  of  his  adventure  in  his  vulgar  country 
to  his  vulgar  countrymen.  I  wish  I  could  stir  your  pride, 
your  Majesty!" 


258  THE    QUEEN  OF    KARMANIA 

But  he  only  stirred  her  disgust  and  anger.  "Talk  to  me 
of  the  political  situation/'  she  commanded.  "Your  point  of 
view  is  too  dull  and  hideous.  Speak  of  other  things."  But 
her  uncle  saw  that  his  insinuation  had  told. 

"King  Peter  married  you  because  of  your  dignity  and 
your  native  nobility,  Karmen  Mara.  Don't  disappoint  Kar- 
mania  in  the  hour  of  her  need.  With  Sarvanarof  you  were 
above  reproach.  You  have  been  admirable  in  all  your 
married  history.  You  handled  Prince  Sarvan  and  his  calf 
love  like  a  true  woman." 

"And  yet,"  she  said  bitterly,  "you  accuse  me  now  in  the 
most  painful  manner." 

"Hitherto  you  have  been  equal  to  the  situation." 

"The  situation  at  present  is  a  different  one,  your  Excel- 
lency." In  saying  this  she  quietly  admitted  to  him  that 
it  was  a  situation.  A  rebellious  expression  darkened  her 
face  and  in  a  very  low  tone  she  said:  "I  refuse  to  listen  to 
anything,  your  Excellency,  which  would  part  me  from  my 
present  interest.  My  marriage  has  debarred  me  from  a 
happy  life;  why  must  I  be  denied  a  happy  love?" 

Karol  saw  that  he  would  have  to  go  to  far  greater  lengths 
in  order  to  effect  any  issue  with  her,  and  though  his  face 
grew  stern  he  changed  his  tactics  abruptly. 

"Parliament  meets  tomorrow.  I  have  many  important 
matters  to  discuss  with  you  other  than  this.  Sarvanarof 
and  Sarvan  are  at  large.  There  is  rebellion  and  treachery 
in  your  army,  even  among  the  Royal  Guard.  Ammunition 
has  been  concealed  sufficient  to  arm  a  third  of  the  popula- 
tion— that  we  know;  but  we  have  not  discovered  the  hiding 
place.  Now,  although  you  were  not  born  to  the  purple,"  he 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  259 

thrust  this  at  her,  "try  to  meet  these  crises.     Parliament 
convenes  today;  many  things  will  come  up  for  discussion." 

But  the  Queen  of  Karmania,  though  God  knows  she 
loved  her  kingdom,  had  only  clung,  as  a  woman  clings  to 
something  she  does  not  like,  to  one  sentence  of  his,  and  she 
returned  to  it,  interrupting. 

"What  was  your  last  horrid  suggestion,  Uncle  Karol? 
What  did  you  mean  when  you  said  that  Mr.  Crossdale 
would  boast  of  his  adventures  in  the  United  States?" 

She  fluttered  into  his  hand  like  a  bird  and  he  was 
delighted.  More  humanly  he  said: 

"I  would  have  been  glad  not  to  have  brought  this  into 
the  question  at  all,  my  dear,  but  you  force  me  to,  and  it  may 
be  well  to  do  so."  Reluctantly,  as  though  he  really  wanted 
to  spare  her,  he  said:  "You  know  that  Refan  Ugo  confis- 
cates Mr.  Crossdale's  correspondence?" 

"Well?"  she  returned  breathlessly.  "I  did  not  know  it, 
in  point  of  fact — I  thought  you  had  stopped  that  inquisi- 
tion." 

Karol  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  brought  out  a  letter 
addressed  to:  "Caleb  Storm,  Esq.,  Western  Transportation 
Company,  San  Francisco."  The  envelope  had  been  broken 
open,  the  seal  tampered  with.  He  handed  the  letter  to  the 
Queen. 

She  took  it  and  read  it  with  eyes  that  scarcely  saw.  It 
was  hand  written.  She  had  never  seen  his  handwriting; 
she  had  forgotten  his  signature  on  the  documents.  She  read, 
and  like  a  startled  woman,  suspicious  always  and  jealous  in 
love,  for  the  moment  she  believed.  In  the  midst  of  a  busi- 
ness letter  of  no  importance  was  a  paragraph  in  which  Mr. 


260  THE  QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Crossdale  boasted  of  a  sentimental  adventure  in  Karmania 
with  a  lady  whose  rank  was  too  high  to  name. 

With  trembling  hands  and  flaming  cheeks  she  folded  the 
letter  and  crushed  it  in  her  hand.  She  did  not  give  it  back. 
"Oh!"  she  exclaimed.  "He  must  leave  the  kingdom  at  once, 
at  once!" 

"Be  a  Queen,  Karmen  Mara.  Be  as  brave  in  this  as  you 
have  been  in  other  moments  of  your  life,  my  dear.  I  have 
thought  the  question  out  to  the  end." 

Her  eyes  were  fastened  on  him,  scarcely  seeing.  He  could 
not  dream  or  imagine  the  anguish  that  this  gave  the  proud 
and  childlike  woman,  for  she  had  trusted  this  man  whom 
she  loved  with  a  singular  and  pure-minded  belief,  a  faith 
which  she  could  never  give  again,  and  which,  in  her  primi- 
tive opinion,  had  sanctioned  everything.  She  had  not  yet 
begun  to  take  it  in.  She  heard  Karol  say: 

"We  were  able  to  rid  ourselves  of  Baumgarten  when  he 
threatened  to  sell  his  workmen  to  the  spies  of  Prince  John. 
It  is  different  with  Crossdale.  We  only  need  to  ship  him  out 
of  the  country  as  fast  as  possible." 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  the  railroad?" 

Here  the  Prime  Minister  shrugged  slightly,  looking  down 
at  his  hands,  which  he  was  rubbing  together,  and  said:  "I 
think,  your  Majesty,  that  it  will  be  the  best  thing  for  Kar- 
mania and  for  the  royal  cause  to  stop  all  operations  on  the 
Royal  State  Railway,  to  dismiss  the  working  force,  Cross- 
dale  with  it,  and  to  concentrate  our  efforts  on  the  quelling  of 
the  rebellion." 

But  Queen  Karmen  Mara  broke  the  spell  under  which 
she  was.  "On  no  account!"  she  said  wkh  much  energy 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  261 

and  self-control.  "As  far  as  Mr.  Crossdale  is  concerned, 
that  we  can  handle  without  sacrificing  the  interests  of  the 
kingdom,  and  handle  it  we  will,  your  Excellency.  It  is  my 
express  desire  that  nothing  in  the  way  of  the  railroad  con- 
tracts shall  be  changed.  I  want  the  road  for  Karmania  and 
I  want  the  work  to  go  on." 

The  Prime  Minister  did  not  press  this.  He  was  more  than 
satisfied  with  the  impression  he  had  made,  as  he  heard  her 
murmur:  "Oh,  but  it's  inconceivable,  unbelievable!  It  can't 
be  true!" 

He  hurried:  "Men  are  men,  your  Majesty,  and  Ameri- 
cans are  fearfully  vulgar!  You  don't  know  their  type!" 

But  a  shudder  ran  through  her  slender  body.  She  put  one 
hand  over  her  eyes  and  said:  "I  feel  as  though  all  the 
dust  of  Karmania  were  on  my  face  and  lips — Mr.  Cross- 
dale  must  not  leave  the  country  until  his  work  is  done — and 
then — "  she  did  not  finish,  but  walked,  humiliated,  the 
length  of  the  music  room  to  her  piano,  and  stood  there 
leaning  on  it. 

Prince  Karol  came  over  to  her  and  put  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  After  a  second  she  lifted  her  pale  face  to  him, 
without  a  tear  on  her  eyelids.  What  she  said  was  very 
far  from  the  sentimental  subject  of  their  conversation. 

"Uncle  Karol,  I  understand  from  Mariska,  with  whom  I 
have  walked  the  floor  all  night,  that  Stanislas  is  at  Pratz- 
Zenoe.  I  have  waited  to  speak  to  you  about  it.  What 
will  happen  to  him?" 

"The  worst,  I  am  afraid.  He  is  being  tried  by  court- 
martial  and  will  probably  be  condemned  to  death." 

Karmen  Mara  clasped  her  hands  together  in  protest. 


262  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"Impossible!"  she  exclaimed.  "We  cannot  possibly  allow 
it — it  would  kill  my  sister." 

The  Prime  Minister  continued  gravely:  "The  death  of  a 
traitor  more  or  less  will  make  small  difference  in  the  history 
of  Karmania,  your  Majesty.  Korvan  will  be  shot  before 
sunrise  on  Sunday  morning." 

K'Neverl    Never!     I  will  never  sign  such  a  sentence!" 

"The  Constitution  has  provided  for  that — since  the  last 
rebellion  death  warrants  can  be  signed  by  the  Prime  Min- 
ister and  Parliament." 

"Over  the  signature  of  the  Queen!" 

"We  must  dispense  with  the  signature  of  a  mere  woman 
in  these  times,  Karmen  Mara." 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  fixing  him  with  a  strange  look.  "It 
would  be  easy  for  you,  then,  to  put  any  man  out  of  the  way 
whom  you  detested,  wouldn't  it,  your  Excellency?" 

"The  best  thing  for  you  to  do,  my  dear,  would  be  to  go  to 
Roumania  and  remain  there  in  quiet,  until  all  these  things 
have  blown  over.  You  would  be  spared  disturbances  and 
danger  and  these  summary  executions;  you  would  be  safe; 
and  better  than  all,  you  will  be  able  to  escape  the  atten- 
tions of  this  traveling  salesman." 

"Heavens!"  she  exclaimed,  withering  him  with  one  look 
of  utter  dislike.  "What  a  brute  you  are!  And  you  speak 
of  vulgarity,  Excellency!" 

One  of  the  Queen's  valets  stood  at  the  far  end  of  the 
music  room,  waiting  for  permission  to  enter.  At  a  sign 
from  the  Queen  he  came  forward  with  two  visiting  cards, 
which  Prince  Karol  took  from  him.  On  his  face  a  curious 
expression,  half  amusement,  half  of  disgust. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  263 

"Mr.  Stephen  Crossdale!"  he  read  from  the  card,  glancing 
up  at  the  Queen. 

Karmen  Mara  looked  speechlessly  at  the  Prime  Minister. 

"Where  is  this  gentleman?" 

It  appeared  that  Mr.  Crossdale  was  downstairs. 

"I  will  go  down  at  once  and  see  him,"  said  the  Prime 
Minister  brusquely.  "I  want  to  see  him — very,  very  oppor- 
tune." He  seemed  suddenly  to  have  sprung  into  a  more 
natural  state  of  mind  at  the  sight  of  these  commonplace 
bits  of  pasteboard. 

"I  shall  arrange  for  you,"  he  said  practically.  "Mr. 
Crossdale  will  go  over  to  Cye  for  the  winter;  we  will  cage 
him  there  like  a  bear.  He  cannot  annoy  you  in  any  way 
like  this — Mount  Nepta  is  impassable  until  the  spring." 

The  color  came  rioting  back  into  the  face  of  Karmen 
Mara.  His  name,  staring  at  her  from  the  bit  of  pasteboard, 
"Mr.  Stephen  Crossdale,"  seemed  so  clean-cut,  so  simple,  so 
little  connected  with  treachery  and  vulgarity. 

"I  have  never  heard  of  anything  so  extraordinary  in  my 
life!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why,  he  calls  on  me  as  frankly  as 
though  I  were — "  and  she  stopped  for  lack  of  the  proper 
word. 

The  servant  who  had  brought  the  cards  made  a  profound 
salutation  and  begged  a  thousand  pardons  of  her  Majesty 
and  his  Excellency,  but  the  gentleman  had  asked  for  the 
Princess  Mariska.  Karmen  Mara  exclaimed  triumphantly: 
"Don't  you  see?  Don't  you  see?  He  hasn't  the  least  idea 
that  I  am  anyone  else  but  Mariska?" 


CHAPTER    XXX 

A  PEACOCK'S  FEATHER  BRINGS  GOOD  LUCK  TO  A 

SAILOR,  BAD  LUCK  TO  A  MAN  WHOSE  WIFE  IS 

AWAY  FROM  HOME,  AND  SIGHT  TO  THE 

BLIND     (KARMANIAN  PROVERB) 

Karol  found  Crossdale  not  in  the  peacock  room,  but  in  a 
lovely  little  library  in  blue  and  gold,  gazing  up  at  the  books 
with  his  back  to  the  door.  He  wheeled  as  Karol  entered  and 
in  the  brusque  way  in  which  he  greeted  the  Premier  of  a 
Kingdom,  appeared  to  have  forgotten  whatever  he  may  have 
assimilated  of  court  etiquette  in  Karmania.  He  stared  at 
the  Minister  accusingly,  solemnly. 

He  looked  as  though  he  had  neither  slept  well  nor  eaten 
at  breakfast.  He  had  the  appearance  of  being  a  flesh  and 
blood  man  in  a  paper  setting.  He  had  been  working  with 
ardor  and  passion  when  he  had  heard  a  piece  of  news  which 
had  chilled  him  to  the  marrow,  and  as  he  was,  he  had  left 
his  workmen  and  come  by  the  way  of  Pratz-Zenoe,  round 
by  the  plains  to  the  capital,  and  made  his  way  to  the  palace 
without  invitation  or  permission.  He  wore  his  working 
clothes — he  could  have  hardly  told  himself  what  he  had  on; 
but  he  had  no  time  to  go  back  and  change.  He  dressed  in 
that  rough  country,  with  the  rough  men,  often  in  his  ranch- 
man dress  of  khaki  breeches,  stuffed  into  riding  boots,  a 
woolen  shirt,  with  a  bright  handkerchief  rpund  his  neck.  So 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  265 

he  stood,  with  a  leather  belt  about  his  waist  and  his  big 
sombrero  beneath  his  arm. 

He  had  created  much  sensation  as  he  rode  to  Savia.  The 
Prime  Minister  glanced  him  up  and  down  in  amused  con- 
tempt. He  had  in  his  own  mind,  back  of  him,  all  the  scene 
just  enacted  with  the  Queen,  and  this  fellow,  in  a  wild  west 
show  costume,  with  the  mud  of  Karmania  on  his  boots,  had 
magnetized  the  Queen!  "What  is  this  horrible  news  about 
Stanislas  Korvan?" 

Prince  Karol  was  very  fine  at  this  moment.  Gravely, 
with  the  solemnity  of  a  man  who  alone  is  calm  in  a  political 
crisis,  stands  serenely  amongst  traitors  and  throne- wreckers, 
said  in  the  most  worldly  tone:  "How  perfectly  charming 
to  see  you,  Mr.  Crossdale,  in  this  delightfully  friendly  and 
unexpected  fashion  1  I  am  sorry  they  did  not  take  you  into 
the  peacock  room — it  is  so  cheerful.  But  since  we  are 
here — "  Karol  dropped  down  on  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  but 
the  young  engineer  stood  firmly  planted  on  his  feet,  glaring 
at  him  as  though  Karol  himself  were  the  executioner. 
"Crossdale,  we  are  terribly  moved.  Her  Majesty  is  cruelly 
distressed,  as  you  may  imagine." 

Crossdale  interrupted,  accusing,  his  gray-blue  eyes  full 
of  fire.  "Why,  they  say  that  Stanislas  may  be  executed! 
It  isn't  possible!  It  isn't  true!  I  have  come  all  the  way 
from  Cye — it  has  taken  me  hard  traveling  nearly  a  week — " 

"My  dear  Crossdale,  won't  you  sit  down?"  The  Prime 
Minister  indicated  a  comfortable  chair,  in  which  the  figure 
of  the  big  ranchman  would  have  been  extremely  incon- 
gruous. 

"No,  damn  it,  I  won't  sit  down!   I  have  not  been  able  to 


266  THE    QUEEN  OF    KARMANIA 

believe  that  anything  was  true  in  your  kingdom,  but  when 
I  hear  that  a  man  with  whom  I  have  eaten  and  slept,  of 
whom  I  am  as  fond  as  a  brother,  may  be  put  out  of  the 
running  in  a  few  hours,  then  I  understand  that  kings  and 
ministers  and  queens  and  the  rest  of  us  are  the  same  blood 
and  flesh!" 

Karol  did  not  appear  to  take  offense  at  the  brusque,  rude 
speech  of  Crossdale,  who  had  no  time  to  play  with  etiquette. 
"Korvan  is  being  tried  by  court  martial.  He  is  an  officer; 
he  will  be  condemned  by  his  own  class." 

"Why,"  said  Crossdale,  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  pockets 
and  protruding  his  chin  a  little  forward  as  he  talked  to  the 
great  man,  "you  don't  know  what  I  have  done  for  your  cause 
over  there  with  my  men — I  have  got  some  influence  on 
them,  your  Excellency.  There  are  only  a  hundred  and  fifty 
just  there,  south  of  Pratz-Zenoe.  The  only  way  I  could 
keep  them  all  from  walking  with  their  picks  and  shovels  and 
dynamite  to  Pratz-Zenoe,  was  by  coming  myself  and  swear- 
ing that  cost  what  it  would,  I  would  bring  Korvan  back." 

Prince  Karol  stared  at  him.  This  was  really  very,  very 
picturesque!  "I  forgive  you,  Mr.  Crossdale,"  he  said,  with 
more  sincerity  than  he  had  hitherto  put  in  his  voice.  "You 
are  an  American;  you  cannot  understand  our  point  of  view. 
But  even  in  your  spotless  and  ideal  land  there  have  been 
spies  and  traitors.  They  have  been  treated  as  Korvan  will 
be  treated.  I  may  mention  Nathan  Hale,  Major  Andre  and 
others.  Now  you,  for  instance,  if  you  hadn't  successfully 
kept  out  of  all  intrigue,  you  might  have  been  in  prison 
tonight  in  Karmania — indeed,  you  would  have  been  until 
your  Government  could  have  looked  after  you." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  267 

After  offering  a  cigar  to  Crossdale,  which  was  refused, 
Karol  scrutinized  it,  clipped  the  end  with  a  gold  clipper, 
satisfied  himself  with  the  label  and  said:  "Now  that  is  really 
very  fine  of  you  to  have  controlled  your  men  in  that  fashion. 
I  expected  it  of  you,  however.  When  we  left  you,  as  we 
have,  quite  free  to  come  and  go  without  any  surveillance, 
for  this  is  the  fact,  we  have  given  you  your  mail  and  per- 
mitted you  to  write  without  censorship,  we  have  proved  our 
entire  confidence  in  you — notably,"  said  the  Prime  Min- 
ister, "your  comrade  was  taken  and  sent  to  prison,  and  you 
remained  free  and  unsuspected."  He  held  Crossdale  with 
his  cold  serene  look. 

"I  don't  know  why,"  said  the  American.  "I  have  been 
the  boon  companion  of  this  man  ever  since  we  started  opera- 
tions on  the  road.  I  don't  believe  in  your  confidence — not 
a  little  bit,  Prince  Karol,  but  I  would  not  be  surprised  to 
find  myself  handcuffed  before  I  leave  the  palace  today. 
Nothing  would  surprise  me." 

"Oh,  you  are  too  suspicious,"  shrugged  the  Prime  Min- 
ister, "far  too  suspicious!  You  should  have  more  trust  in 
people  who  trust  you.  Now,  for  instance,  I  am  sure  you 
would  like  to  have  some  news  of  that  missing  negro." 

"Jeff? — you  mean  my  man  servant,  Jefferson  Robinson?" 

"I  dare  say  that  that  is  his  name — it  might  as  well  be 
that  as  another.  But  what  a  type!  I  promise  you  he  is 
not  to  be  shot  before  sunrise!" 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is?" 

"Here  in  Savia." 

"Under  arrest?" 


268  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"Oh,  not  at  all — not  at  all.  He  is  giving  the  most  delight- 
ful satisfaction  in  the  role  he  is  playing  at  present." 

Crossdale  had  perched  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  in  a  most 
informal  fashion.  He  sprang  up. 

"Your  Excellency!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  warn  you  not  to 
lay  a  hand  on  that  man,  or  you  will  be  called  to  account 
for  it  by  the  United  States." 

The  Prime  Minister  put  out  his  hand  in  the  most  soothing 
fashion.  "My  dear  Crossdale,  don't  be  wrought  up!  I  can 
understand  your  friendly  feeling  about  a  man  who  has  to  die 
the  death  of  a  traitor,  especially  when  this  man  has  been  so 
close  to  you;  but  we  will  return  your  precious  negro  to  you 
by  parcel  post  one  of  these  days.  Don't  you  really  know 
what  he  is  doing?" 

"I  don't,"  said  Crossdale  shortly. 

Prince  Karol  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed  with 
delightful  enjoyment  of  the  amusing  situation.  "Mr.  Rob- 
inson is  one  of  the  assistant  cooks  to  the  Queen,  making 
Southern  Maryland  chicken  for  Her  Majesty." 

Crossdale's  jaw  almost  dropped.  "Jeff  Robinson  cooking 
for  the  Queen?" 

"He  came  down  from  Pratz-Zenoe  a  fortnight  ago  with  a 
crowd  of  merrymakers  from  Roda.  I  believe  he  was  part 
of  a  traveling  circus.  He  got  very  tipsy  and  they  say  that 
on  a  wager  he  offered  himself  to  the  royal  kitchens  as 
assistant  cook." 

"By  Jove!" 

"The  chef  took  him  on.  The  chief  cook  is  a  Hungarian 
who  has  cooked  in  one  of  the  big  hotels  in  Florida  in  the 
United  States;  he  speaks  American  as  well  as  you  do,  and 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  269 

he  likes  negroes.  Her  Majesty  does  not  know,  of  course,  of 
this  addition  to  the  royal  cuisine  but  they  say  that  she  has  a 
great  fancy  for  his  Southern  dishes.  For  the  present,  how- 
ever, he  will  not  be  allowed  to  leave  the  family  circle 
downstairs."  Prince  Karol  cackled  appreciatively,  the 
softest  kind  of  laugh,  a  maddening  little  laugh.  "I  hoped 
you  would  see  the  humor  of  it.  Captain  Ugo  will  keep  him 
under  his  surveillance — you  may  be  sure  that  he  is  carefully 
observed." 

Crossdale  murmured  in  a  low  voice  a  few  things  which  it 
was  perhaps  just  as  well  that  the  Prime  Minister  did  not 
follow.  Then  he  said: 

"Frankly,  this  does  not  get  across  to  me,  your  Excellency. 
I  believe  you  are  using  this  poor  chap  to  spy  into  my  life. 
I  bet  he  is  undergoing  the  third  degree  and  doesn't  know 
it." 

"Nonsense,  Crossdale!"  said  the  Prime  Minister  rather 
sternly.  "In  order  to  prove  our  good  faith  to  you  as  far 
as  this  negro  is  concerned,  he  shall  return  to  you  at  once — 
I  will  see  that  he  meets  you  in  Cye,  where  I  understand 
that  you  will  return.  I  will  speak  to  the  head  steward 
about  it  myself."  Then,  in  order  to  put  an  end  to  this  topic 
of  conversation,  the  Prime  Minister  asked  abruptly:  "Now, 
when  will  you  run  your  first  train  through  to  Roda?" 

Stephen  sighed.  He  was  not  visionary  and  he  under- 
stood that  he  had  been  able  to  do  nothing  for  Korvan.  He 
felt  his  utter  powerlessness  in  this  moment  of  such  great 
importance.  His  long  spirited  ride  from  the  heart  of  his 
mutinous  men  to  the  capital  was  for  nothing,  unless  the 


270  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

letter  in  his  pocket  to  the  Princess  Mariska  could  work  a 
miracle.  He  answered  colorlessly: 

"If  I  am  not  murdered  or  assassinated  I  will  run  a  car 
through  in  the  spring." 

"Spring  begins  early  in  Karmania." 

"In  May." 

"Excellent!"  The  Prime  Minister  seemed  to  appreciate 
this  special  cigar  in  a  special  fashion,  turned  it  affection- 
ately, almost  smiling  at  it.  "It  is  a  long  ride  you  have 
taken,  a  long  journey,  Mr.  Crossdale.  I  don't  know  what 
hospitality  you  will  find  in  the  hotel,  but  they  say  it  is 
fairly  comfortable.  You  will  have  to  stop  a  night  or  so." 
He  looked  indulgently  at  Crossdale's  clothes.  "You  will 
have  to  let  us  send  you  round  some — " 

"Oh,"  interrupted  the  young  man,  "how  can  you  speak  in 
this  cold-blooded  fashion,  speak  to  me  of  conventions,  your 
Excellency?  'Shot  before  sunrise  on  Sunday'  was  the  word 
I  got  down  at  Cye,  and  I  can't  believe  it's  true!  And  you've 
got  a  woman  in  the  government,  a  Queen!  Women  should 
have  hearts!"  he  exclaimed. 

Here  the  Prime  Minister  rose  with  more  snap  than  he 
had  shown.  "Her  Majesty  has  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  death  sentences,"  he  said.  "Karmanian  law  provides 
for  these  possibilities  of  tender-hearted  women — Karmanian 
rulers  are  often  women." 

"Well,"  exclaimed  the  young  man  definitely,  "miracles 
happen,  and  I  have  not  given  up  hope  yet.  I  didn't  ride 
here  just  to  try  to  thaw  you  out,  your  Excellency.  I  had 
another  hope.  Before  I  leave,  if  a  mere  democrat  can  aspire 
to  such  a  favor,  I  would  like  to  see  the  Princess  Mariska." 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  271 

"Delighted!"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  in  the  most  cordial 
manner.  "I  am  sure  she  will  be  perfectly  delighted  to  see 
you." 

"I  just  sent  my  card  up,"  said  the  American  simply.  "I 
dare  say  it  was  not  court  etiquette,  but  I  have  got  to  see 
her  if  there  is  any  way  of  doing  it."  And  he  waited. 

The  Prime  Minister  thawed  now  and  came  forward 
to  Crossdale.  He  tried  to  link  arms  through  the  ranchman's, 
but  he  might  as  well  have  tried  to  encircle  the  town  pump — 
the  arm  was  as  stiff  as  iron. 

"Let's  come  into  the  peacock  room.  If  you  are  going  to 
see  a  lady,  it  is  an  agreeable  room,  so  cheerful." 

Karol  threw  open  a  little  door  from  the  library,  a  door 
set  in  the  wainscoting.  He  opened  it  into  the  most  beauti- 
ful room  that  Stephen  had  ever  imagined.  The  decora- 
tions were  peacocks — peacocks  on  the  ceiling,  on  the  walls; 
the  furniture  was  white  brocade,  embroidered  in  glowing 
peacocks;  the  color  everywhere  was  a  deep  blue  and  pale 
crimson  and  white. 

"Now,"  said  the  Prime  Minister,  trotting  across  the  floor 
and  ringing  by  means  of  a  silken  bell  rope  an  inaudible 
bell,  "we  will  send  word  to  the  Princess  that  you  have  done 
her  the  honor  to  ask  for  her.  It  is  a  quaint  room,  isn't  it?" 

Dazzled  by  the  color  and  the  beauty,  the  young  American 
was  thinking:  "I  shall  see  her  again  now  in  this  wonderful 
and  inhuman  place!  This  is  her  setting,  she  is  part  of  the 
court,  she  belongs  here,  she  is  a  Princess!" 

He  believed  that  the  letter  addressed  to  her  in  Korvan's 
handwriting  would  work  the  miracle  for  Stanislas.  She 
would  have  power  with  the  higher  powers.  This  for  Kor- 


272  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

van — and  then  for  himself.  He  had  kissed  her,  he  had  held 
her  in  his  arms;  he  knew  that  she  was  a  flesh  and  blood 
woman,  with  senses  and  desires  like  his  own!  If  she  really 
cared,  if  it  had  been  anything  but  caprice,  she  would  see 
him! 

He  glanced  down  almost  timidly  at  his  rough  dress. 
"Gad,"  he  thought,  "I  didn't  realize  what  I  was  going  to 
look  like  when  I  called  on  her  in  the  palace!" 

The  bell  was  answered  by  an  English  butler,  a  staid,  per- 
fectly conventional  Anglo-Saxon. 

"Will  you  tell  the  Princess  Mariska  that  Mr.  Crossdale 
has  called  and  that  he  is  with  me  in  the  peacock  room?" 

"Beg  pardon,  your  Excellency,  but  her  Royal  Highness 
left  the  capital  this  morning  for  Pratz-Zenoe." 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  the  Prime  Minister  in  honest  surprise. 
"We  knew  nothing  of  this  whatsoever.  Left  the  capital? 
Her  Royal  Highness  was  here  last  evening,  Parsons." 

"Your  Excellency  she  went  with  her  personal  servants  in 
great  haste — she  went  directly  the  news  was  received  here 
concerning  poor  Lieutenant  Korvan." 

"Very  good,  Parsons." 

The  man  withdrew  and  the  Premier  turned  to  Crossdale 
"I  am  so  awfully  sorry,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "that 
you  should  have  come  so  far  for  such  a  wretched  disappoint- 
ment. But  between  you  and  me,  I  didn't  know  that  you 
knew  my  niece."  He  watched  the  young  man's  expressive 
and  mobile  face  cunningly.  It  seemed  as  though  the  lighl 
had  been  struck  out  of  the  American.  His  heart  and  face 
seemed  frozen. 

"Is  it  possible,"  he  heard  the  Prime  Minister  say,  "that 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  273 

< 

you  have  been  such  a  great  friend  of  Korvan's,  his  com- 
panion, his  associate,  and  did  not  know  anything  of  his 
sentimental  life?" 

Again  as  though  Crossdale  were  some  kind  of  waxworks, 
who  needed  to  be  animated,  the  Prime  Minister  linked  his 
arm  through  the  young  man's  iron  arm  and  piloted  him 
toward  a  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  peacock  room,  leading 
out  on  the  terrace. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  tell  you,  although 
I  still  think  it  is  extraordinary  that  Korvan  did  not  tell 
you  himself." 

As  this  seemed  to  be  a  question,  after  which  the  Prime 
Minister  paused,  Crossdale  formed  the  words:  "I  know 
nothing  whatsoever  about  his  personal  life." 

"He  did  not  think  you  were  interested  in  sentimental 
things,  I  dare  say — American  men  are  supposed  to  be 
absorbed  in  business  and  not  in  love.  Princess  Mariska  is 
tacitly  engaged  to  Korvan — they  have  been  madly  in  love 
for  years.  Under  these  circumstances,  you  can  imagine 
what  a  frightful  thing  this  is  for  the  Queen's  sister.  Her 
Majesty  and  I  were  discussing  it  together  when  your  card 
was  brought  up." 

The  young  man  whom  the  Prime  Minister  piloted  along 
seemed  scarcely  to  move  of  his  own  volition.  He  was 
stunned.  Karol  put  his  hand  with  apparent  affection  on  his 
shoulder.  "Come,"  he  said,  "don't  take  Korvan's  punish- 
ment too  much  to  heart.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a 
man  cannot  betray  his  country  without  paying  the  penalty. 
The  honor  of  a  man's  country  and  the  honor  of  a  woman 


274  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

are  sacred  things,  and  who  play  for  these  stakes  pay  with 
their  lives." 

The  Prime  Minister  was  continuing  his  fine  rhetorical 
speech  of  which  the  Queen  had  made  light.  He  liked  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice  extremely.  He  was  about  to  give 
Crossdale  his  conge  when  three  officers  of  the  Royal  Guard 
entered  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  their  spurs  noisy  on 
the  blue-tiled  floor. 

"One  moment,"  said  his  Excellency.  "Let  me  speak  with 
these  gentlemen.  As  it  happens,  they  are  to  take  in  hand 
the  guarding  of  the  line  between  Roda  and  Cye.  We  shall 
watch  the  Royal  State  Railway  as  though  it  were  a  little 
child." 

These  captains  of  the  Queen's  Guard  made  a  brilliant 
spot  of  color  in  their  full-dress  uniform,  feathered  casques 
in  their  hands,  green,  white  and  scarlet,  against  the  effec- 
tive decorations  of  the  peacock  room. 

The  American  merely  glanced  at  them — toy  soldiers, 
men  of  glass,  painted  mummers.  In  his  heart  was  the  stab 
that  had  been  given  him.  His  house  of  happiness  was  fall- 
ing around  his  soul. 

The  window  in  the  door  before  him  was  wide  open  and 
looked  out  on  an  ancient  loggia,  long,  covered,  extending 
across  the  study  and  the  private  apartments  of  the  Queen. 
He  looked  out,  slowly  coming  back  to  life,  the  things  before 
him  only  beginning  to  take  shape.  He  would  have  to  break 
away  from  here,  go  away  with  this  anguish  in  his  heart,  and 
return,  vanquished,  to  Cye,  unable  to  move  any  of  these 
puppets  by  a  human  string. 

As  he  stared,  a  woman  came  out  on  the  balcony,  followed 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  275 

by  a  big  wolfhound.  Over  a  black  dress  she  had  thrown  a 
splendid  cloak  edged  with  sable.  She  was  hatless  and  her 
dark,  fine  little  head  was  bared  to  the  bright  sunlight.  Two 
long  earrings  fell  from  her  ears. 

He  saw  her  distinctly,  could  have  spoken  to  her  from 
where  he  stood  in  the  door  of  the  peacock  room.  But  she 
was  not  looking  that  way.  Immobile,  she  was  looking  out 
over  the  plains  toward  Crossdale's  mushroom-like  tower. 
With  one  hand  on  the  head  of  the  dog,  she  leaned,  with  the 
other  on  the  balcony,  like  a  figure  carved  out  of  stone. 

Crossdale,  transfixed,  with  his  emotions  so  varied  that  he 
never  hoped  to  set  them  straight,  kept  repeating  to  him- 
self: "But  the  Princess  Mariska  isn't  here — she  has  gone  to 
Pratz-Zenoe.  She  isn't  here!"  He  stared  at  the  woman 
leaning  on  the  stone  of  the  loggia  as  though  he  could  never 
look  enough,  as  though  he  must  make  the  picture  real.  She 
was  beautiful,  she  was  gracious,  she  was  royal — oh,  very, 
very  royal!  But  she  was  as  truly  the  likeness  of  the  chromo 
over  the  taproom  mantelpiece  of  his  little  picture  at  home, 
as  a  woman  could  be. 

He  heard  Prince  Karol's  steps  returning  to  him,  trotting 
over  the  blue-tiled  floor.  Without  turning  his  eyes  to  the 
Prime  Minister,  the  American  caught  his  arm.  Pointing 
toward  the  loggia,  trying  to  make  his  voice  and  words  fit 
together  to  express  human  sounds,  he  asked:  "Is  that  the 
Queen?" 

He  remembers  riding  down  from  the  castle  through  the 
town  over  the  little,  lumpy,  sharp  stones  of  those  ancient 
streets,  between  the  close  little  houses  huddled  together; 


276  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

past  public  fountains,  with  the  evening  groups  around  them 
of  lovely  children  and  lovely  women,  some  of  them  veiled; 
past  lovers  and  past  the  homeward  returning  laborer.  He 
remembers  riding  down  the  hill  with  all  of  its  noise  and  its 
humming  and  its  jargon,  and  its  voices  back  of  him  like 
strange  barbaric  music,  like  something  sinister,  something 
unexpressed  and  yet  vocal.  He  remembers  looking  back, 
looking  up  at  the  little  Karmanian  city,  the  climbing  city, 
the  hill  city,  to  the  castle  with  its  twinkling  lights. 

He  remembers  his  long  ride  home,  through  the  cold 
twilight  and  early  night,  to  his  desolate  tower.  He  remem- 
bers seeing  it  rise  in  the  dark,  holding  up  for  him  the  light 
in  his  study  window  like  a  beacon  for  his  return.  Then  he 
remembers  going  up  the  winding  stair,  following  Serga, 
going  into  his  little  study,  where  the  dogs  lay  attentive  for 
his  coming,  and  throwing  himself  down  on  the  green  leather 
sofa  and  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hands.  Whether  he  fell 
asleep,  whether  he  had  something  like  a  syncope,  he  never 
knew,  because  of  that  evening  he  remembers  nothing  else. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE  EABL  OF  MORAY  GOES  STAUN'lN*  THROUGH  THE  TOWN 

"Your  Majesty  is  quite  right.  Mr.  Crossdale  is  not 
under  surveillance." 

"Ah!"  The  Queen  drew  in  her  breath  and  held  back  her 
natural  expression  of  delight.  She  could  not  let  Ugo  see 
what  these  words  meant  to  her.  But  he  saw.  He  had 
heard  too  much  of  what  had  been  going  on  in  the  Kingdom 
not  to  understand. 

"I  thought  not;  I  was  sure  of  it."  Her  voice,  rich  at  all 
times  and  full  of  cadence,  gave  her  away  almost  every  tune 
she  spoke.  From  a  corner  of  the  dark  wood  chest  on  which 
she  had  perched,  her  cloak  fallen  to  the  floor,  her  face 
raised  toward  this  servant  of  the  secret  service,  Queen  Kar- 
men  Mara  had  listened  to  what  Ugo  had  told  her  of  the 
state  of  her  kingdom,  of  Prince  Sarvan's  chances  of  escape. 
She  had  listened  to  all  the  tremendously  important  things 
which  meant  so  much  to  her  country,  and  at  the  end  she 
had  put  him  a  question. 

From  the  balcony,  after  Crossdale  had  seen  her  standing 
there,  she  had  looked  out  until  the  portcullis  of  the  castle 
door  had  clanged  and  she  had  seen  the  American  engineer 
go  riding  down  the  primitive  streets,  over  the  big  cobbles,  in 
his  cowboy  dress.  She  saw  him  go.  She  was  taking  a  long 


278  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

farewell  of  him,  with  a  heaving  breast  and  a  great  anger 
against  him  and  herself  in  her  heart. 

Then  he  disappeared,  and  she  wished  that  he  had  come 
back  again;  that  she  had  not  let  him  go;  that  she  had 
shown  him  the  letter  and  been  only  a  woman  and  not  a 
sovereign.  She  remembered  a  line  in  an  old  Scottish 
ballad: 

"And  long  shall  his  ladye  look  from  the  castle  down, 
To  see  the  Earl  of  Moray  come  staun'in'  through  the 
town." 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  that  Mr.  Crossdale's  letters  come 
and  go  freely  to  the  States?" 

"Ever  since  the  first  week  of  his  arrival  in  Karmania, 
your  Majesty." 

This  man  had  all  the  Queen's  attention,  straining  forward, 
her  expressive  hands  linking  and  unlinking  their  fingers. 

"You  were  a  spy,  Captain  Ugo,  but  I  have  trusted  you 
always — " 

"I  thank  your  Majesty." 

She  sprang  up.  From  a  little  desk  in  the  corner  of  the 
dark-ceiled  little  room,  she  took  a  Karmanian  bank  note; 
she  took  one,  she  took  two;  she  rolled  them  together. 

"Ugo,  take  this — put  it  away.  Money  is  never  a  bad 
thing  to  have." 

"That  which  is  given  me  by  my  Queen  is  a  sacred  gift. 
I  thank  your  Majesty  profoundly." 

She  continued  speaking  rapidly,  standing  now  in  front  of 
the  spy  whose  respectful  attention  was  riveted  upon  her. 

"It  seems  extraordinary  that  in  times  like  these  of  revolt 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  279 

and  rebellion,  strangers  should  be  so  free,  without  sus- 
picion." 

The  spy  smiled  subtly.  "I  fell  into  disgrace  when  this 
gentleman  arrived,  as  your  Majesty  knows.  Ever  since,  for 
a  selfish  reason,  in  order  to  win  back,  I  have  watched  him 
with  a  special  fidelity.  The  Prime  Minister  knows  that 
I  am  climbing  back  by  my  reports  of  Mr.  Crossdale." 

She  nodded.    "I  know,  I  know."  And  her  eyes  asked. 

The  man  responded  to  the  silent  question:  "Mr.  Crossdale 
is  a  business  man.  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  political 
intrigues.  His  ambition  is  to  complete  his  railroad  and  go 
back  to  America.  My  reports  to  the  Prime  Minister  are 
accepted  without  question.  Although  he  has  lived  for 
months  with  Lieutenant  Korvan,  and  the  Prince  Sarvan  was 
found  hidden  in  his  cabin,  all  this  does  not  touch  him — 
I  would  stake  my  life  upon  it." 

He  saw  her  draw  in  her  breath  again  with  delight,  with 
relief,  and  he  waited  quietly.  "You  are  surprisingly  sympa- 
thetic with  this  gentleman,  Captain  Ugo.  I  wonder  why?" 

"Most  of  us  achieve  freedom,  your  Majesty,  in  these 
countries.  Mr.  Crossdale  was  born  free.  And  I  admire  him 
physically  and  mentally.  I  worship  force  and  I  worship 
freedom;  my  fathers  were  serfs.  My  dream  is  to  go  to  the 
United  States;  he  would  be  an  invaluable  friend." 

The  man  standing  patiently  before  his  sovereign  was  the 
only  one  in  the  kingdom  who  could  set  her  mind  perfectly 
at  rest.  She  took  from  her  belt,  where  she  had  thrust  it, 
the  letter  the  Premier  had  given  her.  She  smoothed  it  out; 
she  handed  it  to  Ugo. 

When  he  had  finished  reading  it,  he  looked  at  her.  His 


280  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

expression,  however,  revealed  nothing  of  his  surprise.  "It 
is  a  lie,  your  Majesty." 

"I  knew  it  to  be  so — at  least,  I  believed  it  must  be." 

"A  fraud  to  defame  this  gentleman  in  your  Majesty's 
eyes." 

The  spy  was  almost  abashed  to  look  upon  the  radiant 
face  of  this  woman  in  love,  whose  lover  he  was  clearing  by 
his  affirmation.  He  had  always  thought  her  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  Europe;  but  he  had  never  dreamed  that 
she  could  look  as  she  did  now,  so  human,  so  glowing.  He 
turned  away.  He  thought  there  were  tears  on  the  lids  of 
her  eyes. 

Then,  fully  mistress  of  herself,  she  added:  "You  must 
give  me  proof,  Captain  Ugo." 

"Mr.  Crossdale  has  never  written  a  line  with  pen  and 
ink  since  he  came  to  Karmania;  there  is  not  a  drop  of  ink 
in  the  cabin  where  this  is  supposed  to  have  been  written. 
He  writes  on  a  Corona  typewriter;  he  signs  his  name  with  a 
pencil.  And  the  ink  with  which  this  letter  is  so  carefully 
written,  your  Majesty,  is  the  ink  which  the  Prime  Minister 
uses  for  his  private  correspondence."  Ugo's  laugh  was 
ugly.  He  hated  Prince  Karol;  he  would  have  given  a  year 
of  his  life  to  see  him  fall.  Everything  he  could  say  now 
was  in  direct  construction  of  the  plan  he  had  against 
the  Prime  Minister. 

"Horrible!    Incredible!"  he  heard  the  Queen  murmur. 

"So  many  things  are  fair,  your  Majesty,  when  one  has  a 
point  to  gain  in  politics  or  sentiment." 

But  she  proceeded:  "Had  this  letter  been  an  authentic  one 
from  Mr.  Crossdale,  would  it  have  come  into  your  hands?" 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  281 

The  spy  shook  his  head.  "No,  nor  in  the  hands  of  the 
Prime  Minister,  either.  The  secret-service  men  are  all  under 
my  orders.  No  one  tampers  with  Mr.  Crossdale's  mail." 

A  great  rush  of  anger  came  over  her  against  her  uncle, 
against  herself  for  having  for  a  moment  doubted  this  man 
to  whom  in  the  generosity  of  her  nature  she  had  given  so 
much,  and  whom  she  loved,  and  to  whom  she  was  ready  to 
give  all.  As  though  the  moment  were  a  rich  one  and  for 
which  he  had  waited,  out  of  which  he  was  going  to  make  all 
he  could,  the  spy  said: 

"Since  we  are  speaking  of  Mr.  Crossdale,  and  I  have  your 
Majesty's  gracious  permission,  I  will  tell  you  in  a  word 
of  his  entrance  into  the  country." 

She  bade  him  sit  down.  The  spy  did  so,  stiffly,  on  one  of 
the  old  chairs,  leather-covered,  bronze-studded,  and  the 
Queen  going  behind  her  desk,  sat  there,  elbows  on  the 
table,  and  with  her  chin  sunk  in  the  palms  of  her  hands, 
listening  to  him  as  a  girl  to  a  fairy  tale. 

"When  Mr.  Crossdale  left  Tamaresk  for  Cye  to  meet 
my  caravan — "  began  the  spy. 

She  listened.  She  heard  him  tell  of  Crossdale's  broken 
journey;  she  saw  him  riding  blindfolded  to  Jehanospelz; 
she  saw  herself  starting  out  with  those  servants  who  had 
sold  themselves  to  the  rebel. 

As  Ugo  told  her  all,  she  listened  with  crimson  cheeks  and 
bright  eyes,  loving  him  more,  admiring  him  more  every 
moment.  It  was  a  Tale  of  Araby,  a  tale  of  wonder  and 
delight  to  this  woman,  protected  so  carefully  always,  and 
to  whom,  as  to  all  women,  deeds  of  courage  and  sudden 
action  appealed.  His  modesty,  his  reserve,  the  fact  that  he 


282  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

had  done  so  much  and  claimed  nothing,  made  him  dearer 
than  ever  to  her.  When  Ugo  had  finished  she  asked: 

"What  has  the  kingdom  done  for  Mr.  Crossdale  to  repay 
him?" 

Ugo  smiled  ironically.  "One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the 
Prime  Minister's  nature  is  not  to  repay  services.  Mr.  Cross- 
dale's  are  ignored,  unknown." 

Karmen  Mara  never  moved  from  where  she  sat  when  the 
spy  left  her.  She  was  the  happiest  woman  in  her  kingdom 
at  that  moment,  although  the  monarchy  tottered.  It  could 
fall  to  which  side  it  liked.  She  was  free — free,  that  is,  to 
love.  There-  was  nothing  between  Crossdale  and  herslf  but 
the  enceinte  of  the  little  city  in  the  rich  plain.  There  he 
was  and  there  she  was,  without  a  barrier.  Her  thoughts 
could  go  to  him;  and  they  went  with  a  rush  and  a  passion 
that  any  man  would  have  been  proud  to  have  awakened  in 
the  heart  of  a  woman. 

She  was  sitting  like  this,  musing,  moved,  wondering  how 
she  could  communicate  with  him  before  he  should  go  to 
Cye,  when  the  tapestry  on  the  door  was  lifted  and  Refan 
Ugo  again  stood  in  the  room.  He  brought  a  letter.  "I  met 
the  messenger  on  the  stairs,  your  Majesty,  and  I  craved 
the  honor  of  bringing  Mr.  Crossdale's  letter  myself  to  you." 
He  bowed  and  was  gone. 

Karmen  Mara  broke  the  seal.  Within  was  the  letter  to 
the  Princess  Mariska  which  Crossdale  had  come  to  the 
castle  to  deliver  in  the  hopes  that  it  might  save  Stanislas' 
life.  Then,  on  another  slip  of  paper — not  written  with  a 
Corona  typewriter,  but  indeed  with  a  very  soft  pencil: 

"When  I  was  waiting  in  the  peacock  room  to  learn  Kor- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  283 

van's  fate  and  to  give  this  letter  to  the  Princess  Mariska, 
I  saw  standing  on  a  balcony  the  woman  I  love,  the  woman 
whose  picture  I  bought  when  I  was  a  young  man  in  Boston; 
the  woman  I  have  kissed  and  held;  the  one  I  want  and 
shall  want  until  I  die. 

"They  tell  me  she  is  the  Queen  of  Karmania.  God!  I 
wish  she  were  a  country  girl  who  could  come  with  me  and  be 
my  wife  and  my  love!  As  she  is  the  Queen,  I  hope  that  she 
will  spare  the  life  of  Korvan,  if  she  can.  And  for  my  part, 
although  she  is  a  Queen,  I  know  that  she  is  a  woman  with 
a  heart  and  feelings.  I  ask  her  to  remember  our  kisses  and 
I  leave  my  fate  in  her  hands. 

"Stephen  Crossdale." 

So  Crossdale  wore  out  the  winter,  hearing  nothing  what- 
soever from  Savia.  He  waited,  although  what  he  waited  for 
he  could  scarcely  have  told.  He  supposed  that  the  Prime 
Minister  had  told  her  that  she  was  incognita  no  longer,  and 
she  would  expect  him  to  look  upon  their  romance  as  a 
dream. 

He  never  left  Cye  thereafter  and  absorbed  himself  in  his 
work  on  the  railroad.  That  winter  the  snows  were  heavy. 
He  contrived  snowploughs  and  himself  superintended  the 
work  in  the  absense  of  Korvan  and  his  second  superin- 
tendent. The  Savian  side  of  the  railroad  he  left  in  the 
hands  of  O'Dell,  and  controlled  the  works  at  Cye  himself 
alone.  But,  curiously  enough,  since  his  visit  to  the  capital 
he  appeared  to  have  gone  very  high  in  the  favor  of  the 
Prime  Minister.  He  had  become  the  man  whom  Prince 
Karol  delighted  to  honor. 


284  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

The  realization  that  he  loved  a  Queen  came  upon  him 
with  a  strange  dignity,  a  sense  of  being  a  man  set  apart — 
perhaps  for  tragedy,  and  certainly  for  renunciation.  A 
sense  of  delicacy,  a  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness  of  her 
and  of  all  it  meant,  kept  him  silent  and  apart.  He  made  no 
sign  whatsoever. 

Revolution  slept  for  the  time  in  Karmania.  The  little 
kingdom  was  not  yet  ripe  for  democracy.  Sarvanarof's  and 
Sarvan's  names  were  no  more  heard.  A  moment  of  rest 
passed  over  the  kingdom,  and  the  Queen  became  astound- 
ingly  popular.  Her  name  was  on  every  lip,  her  songs  were 
sung  wherever  there  was  voice  and  breath  to  sing  them. 
People  made  her  a  goddess,  and  the  fame  of  her  came  over 
the  top  of  Mount  Nepta. 

In  order  to  express  to  the  engineer  his  new  friendliness 
Prince  Karol  (presumably  he)  commandeered  Las  Restaurus 
for  the  engineer  and  Crossdale  spent  the  winter  in  the 
Queen's  lodge. 

She  had  prorogued  Parliament;  she  had  taken  things  in 
her  own  hands,  and  was  making  a  great  impression  on  her 
people.  She  went  among  them  in  native  dress,  gave  them 
concessions,  left  them  their  lands.  And  Prince  Karol,  in 
order  to  hold  the  monarchy  together,  withdrew  more  and 
more,  and  Queen  Karmen  Mara  became  the  headpiece. 

Stanislas  Korvan  was  not  pardoned;  neither  was  he 
executed.  But  he  escaped  from  the  prison  in  Pratz-Zenoe. 
The  fact  of  his  escape  proved  to  Crossdale  how  strong  the 
propaganda  was  of  Prince  John — that  the  warders  in  the 
prison  were  his  creatures. 

O'Dell  came  over  by  way  of  Pratz-Zenoe  several  times 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  285 

during  the  winter,  bringing  news  of  the  capital,  of  Queen 
Karmen  Mara's  brilliant  reign. 

Meanwhile  he  had  no  news  of  Jeff  Robinson,  who  seemed 
to  have  disappeared  off  the  face  of  Central  Europe.  Cross- 
dale  shot  his  bears  in  the  snow,  shot  boars,  and  the  furs 
piled  up  in  the  fur  room  of  the  hunting  lodge.  But  for 
three  days  at  Christmas  he  retired  to  his  old  quarters  and 
spent  Christmas  there  with  the  memories  of  Sarvan  and 
Korvan,  for  her  Majesty  indulged  a  whim  to  pass  the  holi- 
days in  the  forest.  He  never  saw  her,  never  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her,  though  she  hunted  and  went  sleighing  on 
the  Steppes. 

But  he  went  back  to  Las  Restaurus  later,  and  there 
was  throughout  the  rooms  the  scent  of  violets,  and  on  his 
desk  in  his  own  rooms  was  a  copy  of  her  book  of  Kar- 
manian  folk  songs.  And  the  place  was  full  of  flowers 
brought  over  from  her  greenhouses  at  the  castle.  There 
were  bowls  and  bowls  of  yellow  roses.  He  began  to  admire 
her  as  a  Queen,  her  triumph  in  the  kingdom,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  put  aside  his  own  part  in  her  existence  and  to 
crush  down  his  memories. 

In  the  first  days  of  the  year,  among  his  American  letters, 
postmarked  from  New  York,  came  a  letter  to  him  from 
John  Sarvanarof.  The  Prince  thanked  him  warmly  for  the 
work  he  was  carrying  on  for  Karmania;  he  thanked  him  for 
the  future  of  the  country  and  told  Crossdale  that  he  was 
serving  the  cause  of  democracy. 

In  closing,  Sarvanarof  sent  greetings  from  Sarvan  and 
Korvan  and  himself. 

"The  man's  madl"  the  American  thought. 


286  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

He  burned  the  letter  and  wrote  to  Storm: 
"I  have  no  time  to  look  for  oil.  I  shall  run  my  first  cars 
through  from  the  capital  to  Roda  end  of  April  or  beginning 
of  May,  then  all  the  other  Johnnies  can  do  the  rest.  As 
soon  as  I  see  daylight  through  my  tunnel,  I'm  off  for  the 
U.  S.  A." 

In  April  he  had  taken  up  his  quarters  again  in  his  old 
brown  tower,  to  superintend  the  final  operations  from  the 
Savia  side  of  the  tunnel. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

WHEN  THE  BOYA-DUC  COMES  FROM  THE  FAS  COUNTRY 
THE  WOMAN  WILL  DANCE  WITH  HIM  THOUGH  IT  BE 
OVER  HER  HUSBAND'S  GRAVE.  (KARMANIAN  PROVERB.) 

No  spring  had  ever  been  to  him  what  this  spring  in  Kar- 
mania  was.  When  he  had  come  over  to  the  capital  the 
whole  place  was  as  lonely  as  a  deserted  bird's  nest,  for  the 
Queen  was  in  Paris.  As  every  smart  woman  should  do,  she 
had  gone  to  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  to  buy  clothes.  It  was 
more  or  less  a  relief  to  him  to  know  that  he  should  not 
pass  her  driving  or  riding.  He  had  grown  to  accept  her 
silence  as  a  thing  she  had  determined  for  them  both.  This 
was  his  fate — to  love  a  woman  so  high  above  him  that  he 
could  never  possibly  win  her.  It  would  have  been  better  to 
have  loved  a  barmaid?  Ah,  chi  zaru?  as  the  Karmanians 
say,  which  means:  Who  in  heaven  or  earth  can  tell? 

He  saw  from  his  brown  tower  the  bloom  break  over  the 
flat  country.  Town  and  mountain  and  little  nestling  farm 
were  all  curtained  off  by  pink  and  yellow  blossom.  The 
plain  became  a  mass  of  coral  and  young  green  growth.  The 
forests  opened  up  their  cedar  chests  of  pungent  scent. 

Altogether  it  was  enough  to  make  a  young  man  mad. 
Crossdale  leaned  out  of  his  little  window,  quite  drunk  with 
the  joy  of  living,  because  he  was  strong  and  young,  and  he 
was  not  ashamed  of  the  passion  in  his  veins.  As  the  late 
April  air  met  him  he  said:  "I  have  slept  too  long  in  Cye. 


288  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

What  is  she  that  she  should  not  be  loved?  I  have  been  a 
coward!  I  will  write  her  again." 

The  little  capital  climbed  up  its  hill  toward  the  fair  sky, 
and  the  whole  country  conspired  to  make  him  forget  that 
he  was  anything  but  a  lover.  Class  and  distinction  seemed 
but  the  most  foul  man-made  things,  and  only  the  primitive 
feelings  of  heart  and  senses  worth  creation.  On  the  castle 
the  flag  was  at  half  mast,  because  Karmen  Mara  was  in 
Paris  buying  lovely  clothes. 

He  had  danced  all  winter  at  Cye  and  Roda;  he  was  a 
past  master  in  the  native  dances.  He  led  the  whirra  with 
the  best  Boya-Duc  in  the  kingdom.  The  dancing  festivals 
were  being  held  everywhere  now,  in  every  little  town.  It 
was  a  springtime  custom,  to  dance  because  one  was  young 
and  glad  and  the  blood  in  the  veins  running  like  the  young 
sap  in  the  trees  toward  life  and  its  expression,  new  birth, 
rebirth,  fecund  and  natural  living. 

Crossdale  loved  the  Karmanian  peasants  because  they 
were  beautiful  and  because  they  were  her  people;  and  he 
had  kissed  many  a  girl  under  her  veil,  and  kissed  the  grave- 
eyed,  free-lipped  women,  too.  The  young  ones,  with  heavy 
braids  and  a  knife  in  the  garter,  were  shy,  but  the  veiled 
married  women  were  another  story. 

Savia  had  been  sleeping  all  the  winter  under  the  snow, 
as  he  had  been  sleeping  at  Cye,  and  now  warming  to  life.  On 
the  plain  within  a  stone's  throw  of  his  tower  a  circus,  which 
had  been  in  winter  quarters  at  Pratz-Zenoe,  was  driving  in 
stakes,  fetching  in  show  wagons,  putting  up  red,  yellow  and 
white  tents  like  a  gaily  colored  striped  bouquet.  From  his 
tower  he  could  watch  all  the  proceedings.  There  were 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  289 

sweetmeat  fakers,  crude,  vulgar  little  shows,  and  long  aisles 
of  attractions  of  all  kinds,  for  the  circus  promised  to  cover 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  space.  The  show  was  on  its  way  to 
Cye  and  Roda  and  beyond. 

Already  the  Savian  boys  in  stiff  white  skirts  and  Savian 
girls  with  their  thick  dark  braids  grouped  around  the  waltz- 
ing bears.  All  the  shows  began  with  a  long  salute  to  Her; 
everything  was  preluded  with  "Heljenf"  and  Crossdale 
echoed  it. 

A  morning's  ride  across  the  plain,  Heidi-Luc,  the  prettiest 
town  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  was  to  celebrate  the 
Queen's  birthday.  He  had  seen  the  hut  where  she  had  been 
born,  with  the  hole  in  the  floor  for  the  fire  and  the  single 
window,  all  kept  sacred  like  a  shrine. 

There  would  be  festivals  all  over  the  country  now  in  the 
spring,  and  not  the  least  important  was  to  be  the  big  cele- 
bration at  Roda  when  his  first  passenger  train  should  trans- 
port the  cabinet  from  Savia  to  Roda.  The  whole  province 
would  rise  up  and  celebrate.  It  made  him  laugh  to  think  of 
it.  He  could  laugh  now;  he  had  been  able  to  ever  since  he 
came  back  to  Savia.  He  was  young;  he  was  alive;  he  had 
learned  how  to  love;  he  had  learned  what  it  is  to  have  one 
motive  force  for  everything  in  the  world.  Over  and  over 
again  he  said  to  himself:  "It  isn't  given  to  every  man  to 
love  a  Queen!  Cost  what  it  will,  I  will  tell  her  so!" 

He  dressed  himself  in  his  ranchman's  dress  to  ride  over  to 
Heidi-Luc  for  the  Queen's  festival.  In  riding  breeches  and 
boots,  in  a  thin  flannel  shirt,  a  bit  of  pear  bloom  in  his 
scarf  and  a  rabbit's  foot  in  his  hat,  he  rode  to  Heidi-Luc 
across  the  green  land. 


290  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

The  women  of  the  long  braids  and  the  black  eyelashes 
and  the  free  lips,  with  lovers  and  husbands  and  sons,  came 
on  foot  and  in  oxcarts  and  in  mule  carts  from  the  country. 
Every  pretty  girl  and  every  fine  young  peasant  in  Heidi- 
Luc  and  thereabouts  was  abroad,  gathered  around  the  rustic 
platform,  listening  to  the  players  of  the  rodza,  the  native 
flute,  sweet  as  honey  in  its  tone,  and  with  notes  like  the 
dripping  of  water  in  a  silver  basin,  and  the  fiddle  and  man- 
dolin, besides  curious  antique  instruments  known  only  to 
Karmania  and  her  frontiers.  Stiff  skirts  were  stiffer  and 
whiter  than  ever;  tarbushes  red  as  poppies,  bright  as  flame, 
and  the  embroidered  jackets  seemed  all  just  off  the 
embroiderer's  frame. 

The  Queen's  little  house  was  almost  hidden  by  trees  of 
blossom  propped  up  against  it,  until  it  seemed  one  blossom 
itself  in  the  little  town. 

The  American,  on  his  horse,  at  one  side,  unobserved, 
appeared  passive,  but  he  felt  one  with  them  and  ready  for 
the  festival.  When  the  "Heljensl"  had  died  into  silence  the 
dance  began,  and  the  clicking  feet  and  the  melancholy  minor 
music  mingled  in  mad  orgy  of  sound.  The  Queen  had 
always  come  to  Heidi-Luc  to  dance  with  the  Syndic — it  was 
her  custom.  But  this  year  she  was  in  Paris. 

The  engineer  had  not  decided  whether  or  not  he  would 
dance;  he  was  waiting  for  an  inspiration.  Meanwhile  he 
watched  the  whirling,  whirling  skirts,  the  red,  yellow,  blue 
and  black  shoes,  the  twinkling  feet,  until  the  whole  picture 
swam  before  his  eyes. 

A  cart  drawn  by  two  white  oxen,  garlanded  with  blossoms, 
came  slowly  through  Heidi-Luc  and  up  to  the  platform. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  291 

There  were  two  women  in  the  cart,  and  the  one  who  was 
veiled  wore  a  white  dress  embroiderd  in  black  and  gold, 
and  a  short  black  jacket  embroidered  in  black  and  gold,  soft 
black  shoes  with  high  heels  and  a  little  round  cap  on  her 
dark  little  head. 

As  the  cart  came  up  she  sat  watching,  whilst  her  com- 
panion, a  blonde  girl  in  dress  embroidered  in  red  and  blue, 
sprang  out  and  running  up  the  steps  of  the  platform,  began 
to  dance  with  much  will  and  abandon.  A  murmur  of 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  ran  through  the  crowd,  but  there 
was  no  demonstration  whatsoever  to  indicate  that  they  were 
royal  guests. 

The  girl  was  blond  and  blue  eyed  and  Crossdale  knew 
her  from  her  picture,  which  he  had  seen  in  the  restaurant  in 
Cye.  The  Syndic  was  her  partner.  She  danced  well,  but 
there  was  nothing  extraordinary  about  her  performance.  He 
nodded  to  the  peasant  near  him,  who  was  saying:  "It  is 
her  Royal  Highness,  the  Princess  Mariska!"  gave  the  man 
his  horse  to  hold — "And  yonder — "  crowed  the  man,  but 
Crossdale  did  not  wait  to  hear.  He  watched  until  the 
Princess  perfunctorily  made  the  gesture  of  throwing  herself 
against  the  Syndic's  breast.  He  touched  her  brow  rever- 
ently with  his  hand  which  had  touched  his  lips,  and  she 
disappeared  from  the  stand. 

Then  the  engineer  saw  the  other  woman  leave  the  oxcart, 
run  up  the  steps  of  the  platform,  reach  it  as  though  she 
had  been  blown  upon  it  by  a  breath  of  spring,  hi  her  white 
skirt,  with  its  embroidery,  in  her  black  coat  and  her  black 
shoes.  It  was  the  treja  girl,  the  girl  of  the  Steppes,  the 


292  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

woman  of  the  yellow  rose — His  Woman,  whom  he  had 
kissed  and  held! 

Her  veil,  fastened  around  her  head  by  a  gold  tape,  was 
short  to  her  chin  and  blown  a  bit  from  her  face,  and  he 
could  see  her  cheek  and  her  dark  crisp  hair  under  her  cap. 

She  raised  her  arms  with  the  castanets,  took  the  tradi- 
tional pose  of  the  invitation  and  began  to  dance  the  whirr  a. 
The  crowd  watched  her  in  breathless  silence;  according  to 
custom  the  Queen  was  never  cheered  in  her  native  town  until 
she  gave  the  signal. 

The  American  watched  a  first-rate  performance,  for  Kar- 
men  Mara  danced  like  a  professional.  The  peasants  began 
to  go  wild,  to  cry  to  her,  to  applaud  her,  to  call  her  in  their 
picturesque  language — their  bird — their  little  daughter — 
their  little  rose — their  little  sister!  And  their  excitement 
reached  her. 

At  the  first  notes  of  the  whirra,  as  the  rodza  calls  the 
invitation,  Karmen  Mara,  looking  around  for  the  peasant 
Boya-Duc,  beat  her  small  black  feet  on  the  boards  of  the 
platform.  The  Boya-Duc  is  supposed  to  answer  the  invita- 
tion. Flinging  down  his  sombrero,  with  one  bound  Cross- 
dale  was  on  the  platform,  facing  the  Queen,  in  the  pose  the 
Boya-Duc  takes  when  he  responds  to  the  call. 

There  was  a  breathless  pause,  a  murmur,  half  discordant, 
unfriendly,  for  this  was  the  Syndic's  special  honor.  But  the 
dancer  threw  down  her  cap,  threw  back  her  head  and  shook 
free  her  hair,  that  was  short  to  her  neck  in  dark  curls, 
nodded,  and  the  next  thing  Crossdale  knew  he  was  dancing 
to  the  barbaric  music  of  the  whirra,  the  partner  of  the 
Queen — to  the  flute,  the  tambourine,  the  violin,  and  the 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  293 

temperamental,  barbaric  music  that  he  had  loved,  with 
which  he  was  familiar,  and  which  he  had  followed  through 
little  Karmania  from  town  to  town. 

The  melody,  the  crying  and  the  calling,  ran  with  the 
fire  in  his  veins,  beat  in  the  blood  in  his  cheeks,  made  his 
breath  short  and  catch  him;  he  parted  his  lips  to  take  in 
more  freely  his  delight.  Heidi-Luc  never  saw  a  dance  like 
this,  for  the  man  and  woman  went  mad  in  it.  If  the  Queen 
were  a  wonder,  so  was  her  partner,  hi  his  riding  boots,  in 
his  soft  shirt,  hatless,  full  of  life  and  full  of  the  passion  of 
the  dance  and  the  passion  of  the  moment. 

As  the  dance  progressed  the  whirra  grew  wilder,  more 
tempestuous,  madder,  and  when  the  moment  came  and  they 
had  danced  around  each  other  until  the  world  seemed  to 
swim,  he  felt  that  there  was  no  moment  in  life  worth  living 
for  him  if  the  Queen  did  not  end  the  whirra  with  its  tradi- 
tional climax  and  throw  herself  upon  his  breast. 

But  his  dancing  partner  seemed  as  charmed  as  he;  excite- 
ment gained  her  as  it  had  gained  Crossdale.  She  was  a  bar- 
barian, born  of  the  Steppes  themselves;  she  was  the  woman 
of  the  hunt,  and  the  woman  of  the  sledge  ride.  Passion  and 
life  were  as  inborn  hi  her  as  are  the  light  and  the  sun  to 
the  universe. 

She  had  lived  on  the  memory  of  his  touch  and  his  kisses, 
and  as  she  threw  herself  for  a  brief  second  against  his 
breast,  as  the  music  called  and  then  fell  into  silence,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  could  never  breathe  again  without 
her  near  him,  and  that  if  he  had  to  let  her  go  he  would  die. 

He  tore  off  her  veil,  bound  as  it  was  across  her  hair  by 
the  golden  band,  stared  down  into  her  face,  at  her  parted 


294  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

lips,  at  her  shining  eyes.  He  was  only  a  dancer,  the  Boya- 
Duc  of  the  festival;  the  eyes  of  her  people  were  on  them! 

He  said  in  a  low  voice:  "Karmen  Mara — I  have  found 
you!  Little  Queen!" 

She  was  apart  from  him  again,  had  given  the  signal  and 
the  "H el jens!"  filled  the  air  and  seemed  to  swamp  them  and 
to  bear  her  away,  mad  with  joy. 

Tingling  from  head  to  foot,  his  brain  full  of  stars,  wet  to 
the  skin,  his  shirt  clinging  to  him  like  a  rag,  he  leaned 
against  one  of  the  supports  of  the  platform  until  his  senses 
should  reel  into  place.  It  had  been  the  wildest,  most  won- 
derful moment  of  his  life. 

He  saw  the  Queen  run  down  the  steps,  rejoin  her  sister  at 
the  rustic  vehicle,  with  the  crowd  at  the  very  skirt  of  her 
dress,  and  he  watched  her  with  happy  eyes.  Nothing  on 
God's  earth  could  take  this  from  him,  if  he  never  saw  her 
again. 

Some  one  told  him  that  the  Queen  wished  to  speak  to 
him.  As  he  stood  by  the  side  of  her  oxcart  she  leaned  over 
her  sister,  resting  her  arm  on  Mariska's  lap,  and  he  saw  her 
near,  saw  again  that  vivid,  brilliant  little  face,  all  lit  now 
by  the  fire  in  her,  the  excitement. 

"How  do  you  do?  IVe  so  often  wanted  to  meet  you!  This 
is  my  sister,  the  Princess  Mariska." 

And  he  realized — and  could  have  laughed  aloud  at  it — 
that  he  was  being  formally  presented  to  the  Princess  whom 
he  had  thought  he  loved,  formally  presented  by  the  woman 
for  whom  he  would  have  died  and  whom  he  had  held  in  his 
arms.  Why,  the  world  had  gone  mad!" 

"How  wonderfully  you  danced  the  whirr  a  I    You  must  be 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  295 

Karmanian.  You  will  be  a  famous  Boya-Duc — where  did 
you  learn?" 

Was  that  her  voice?  Yes.  He  had  heard  it  in  his  sleep, 
it  had  called  to  him  in  the  cold  winter  nights,  in  his  lonely 
mateless  room,  when  he  had  gone  to  his  rest  wanting  her 
and  when  he  had  wakened  and  felt  that  the  days  would 
never  be  days  until  he  could  see  her  and  speak. 

"I  have  been  dancing  all  winter,"  he  said.  "I  have 
reversed  the  fable,  haven't  I?  If  I've  danced  all  winter,  will 
it  mean  that  I  must  starve  all  summer?" 

He  could  be  gay.  He  looked  from  one  to  another  of  the 
sisters.  They  were  both  laughing  with  him. 

The  Princess  Mariska,  in  conventional,  colorless  English 
said:  "Stanislas  Korvan  told  me  much  about  you.  I  feel 
as  though  I  knew  you.  Americans  are  wonderful  dancers." 

He  rode  alongside  of  them  by  the  oxcart  across  the  plain 
to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  he  put  her  sister  and  herself  in 
the  carriage  that  waited  for  Her  Majesty,  with  its  four 
horses  and  two  postilions  and  a  mounted  guard. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

MR.    RAT    COMES    TO    TOWN 

Jeff  Robinson  had  disappeared  again,  from  the  castle,  but 
Crossdale  believed  neither  Karol  nor  Refan  Ugo  when  they 
told  him  that  they  knew  nothing  of  the  negro's  where- 
abouts. He  was  frightfully  concerned  about  the  man,  and 
wrote  to  put  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities  at 
Bukarest. 

One  afternoon  with  boyish  interest  he  watched  the  circus 
outspread  on  the  plain  before  his  tower  window.  There  was 
no  need  for  him  to  put  his  eye  to  a  hole  in  the  canvas;  he 
could  look  directly  into  one  of  the  rings  over  the  roofless 
brown  tent.  He  could  see  as  though  from  a  box  the  beauti- 
ful lady  in  scarlet  going  round  and  round  on  her  traditional 
white  horse,  whose  progress  was  impeded  by  the  clowns. 

The  barracks  and  the  shanties  of  his  own  yards  were 
a  bit  beyond  the  circus.  The  smoke  rose  from  his  engines; 
he  heard  the  whistles  tooting  over  the  banging  band.  Peace 
had  entirely  gone  from  the  beautiful  Karmanian  plain. 

But  he  could  not  put  Jeff  Robinson  out  of  his  mind. 
What  the  devil  had  the  man  done?  Run  after  some  native 
woman,  of  course!  He  understood  the  negro's  vanity  and 
his  love  of  wealth;  he  was  always  trying  some  turn  at  a 
lottery,  some  game  of  chance.  Only  his  master's  influence 
kept  him  from  gambling  away  everything  he  had. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  297 

Crossdale  remembered  very  distinctly  Robinson's  extraor- 
dinary interest  in  the  possibilities  of  the  Karmanian  oil 
fields.  He  knew  that  one  of  Jeff's  weaknesses  was  for  read- 
ing his  letters  and  he  left  them  around  as  little  as  possible. 
But  he  was  perfectly  sure  that  Jeff  had  possessed  himself 
of  all  the  information  regarding  the  Western  Transportation 
Company's  plans  for  accumulating  wealth  in  Karmania.  The 
little  portfolio  in  which  he  had  kept  a  series  of  letters  from 
Storm  had  disappeared  with  Jeff.  But  how  in  heaven's  name 
could  he  use  any  of  this  information  he  wondered,  as  he 
leaned  against  the  window  sill,  watching  the  clowns  in  the 
ring. 

One  big  fellow  amused  him  mightily.  In  white,  once 
clean,  a  peaked  clown's  cap,  face  whitewashed  like  the  side 
of  a  house,  there  was  something  familiar  in  his  poses.  Then 
a  tune  of  the  band  caught  Crossdale's  ear.  He  hummed  it 
before  he  realized  that  he  knew  it  well,  and  that  Jeff  used 
to  sing  it  to  the  banjo  on  the  ranch. 

"Mr.  Rat  has  come  to  town,  um — urn — " 

To  this  spiritual  announcement  the  big  clown  waltzed 
like  a  tee-totum.  It  seemed  awfully  strange  to  hear  this  in 
the  Balkans! 

"To  get  his  wife  a  wedding  gown — " 
He  could  almost  hear  Jeff's  voice  singing  it. 
"What  shall  the  wedding  breakfast  be?" 

This  was  the  last  performance  of  the  country  circus  hi 
Karmania.  It  had  been  all  through  the  provinces.  Cross- 


298  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

dale  had  heard  of  it  everywhere.     It  was  a  Roumanian' 
circus,   three  ringed,   enormous,   and    with    hundreds    of 
people.     Because  of  the  extremely  fine  weather  they  had 
unroofed  the  rings. 

As  soon  as  they  could  pack  up  their  paraphernalia,  box 
up  the  snakes,  they  were  going  to  proceed  to  Cye,  Roda, 
and  from  thence  out  of  the  country. 

"Mr.  Rat  has  come  to  town 

To  get  his  wife  a  wedding  gown — " 

Poor  old  Jeff  Robinson  must  have  been  near  the  winter 
quarters  of  these  people,  at  Pratz-Zenoe.  They  had  stolen 
his  song  from  him.  He  would  go  over  to  see  them,  inter- 
view them,  find  out  something  about  the  negro. 

"What  shall  the  wedding  breakfast  be? 
A  piece  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  tea." 

Poor  old  Jeff!  He  must  have  followed  this  circus  like  a 
boy! 

The  big  clown  threw  handsprings  on  his  white  gloves  and 
soft  shoes  out  of  the  ring  and  disappeared.  Then  Cross- 
dale  wheeled.  "Gad!  Isn't  that  the  best  ever!" 

Some  one  rushed  upstairs.  He  opened  the  door.  "Hello, 
Boss!  Howdy,  Mister  Crossdale?" 

He  had  expected  to  see  Jeff  Robinson  one  day  or  another, 
but  never  like  this.  His  whitewash  was  marvellous;  nowhere 
would  he  have  passed  for  a  negro,  except  for  the  big  red 
lips.  His  face  was  working,  however,  with  emotion.  With 
his  big  flat  feet  in  their  soft  white  shoes,  his  flapping  hands 
in  their  dirty  gloves,  he  was  pathetic,  he  was  ridiculous. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  299 

"Jumping  Moses!"  exclaimed  the  Californian.  "Go  and 
get  those  filthy  duds  off  you,  Robinson!  What  in 
thunder — ?" 

As  the  man  showed  no  signs  of  moving,  Crossdale  con- 
tinued: "Hurry  up — go  into  the  next  room  and  clean  up  if 
you  can!" 

"No,  no,  Mister  Crossdale."  The  clown  shook  his  head. 
"No,  no,  Boss.  Ah  can't  stay  a  minute — yo'll  hab  to  let 
me  go,  b'lieve  me  I  couldn't  lebe  now — ah'm  all  tied  up  wid 
dat  bunch  ob  spo'ts.  It  means  life  and  death  ef  ah  don't 
keep  ma  contract."  , 

"Contract!"  said  Crossdale  furiously.  "What  the  deuce 
do  you  mean  by  taking  on  any  contract  but  mine?  I'll 
have  you  transported — thrown  over  the  frontier,  Robinson! 
You've  got  to  come  to  your  senses,  man!  Take  those 
things  off  or  I'll  kick  you  out  of  them.  And  now  tell  me 
where  my  letters  are  from  Mr.  Storm.  Where  is  my  little 
red  wallet?" 

"Why,"  said  the  negro,  with  wide  open  eyes,  "now  yo' 
don'  go  fo'  to  t'ink— ?" 

No,  Crossdale  could  not.  There  was  that  in  the  sweetly 
modulated  voice,  in  the  man's  face,  that  made  him  trust  him 
against  all  appearances. 

"Think,  damn  you!  I  don't  have  to  think — I  want  to 
know!" 

"Ah  don'  hid  dem  in  de  Cye  cabin  under  de  bricks  ob  de 
chimley  floor.  Yo'll  sure  find  dem  all  dere." 

"What  for,  you  fool?" 

"Why,  suh,"  said  the  negro,  "yo'  sure  ain'  de  only  person 
dat's  got  'n  interest  in  dose  wells,  Mister  Crossdale." 


300  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Just  then  from  without  the  band  took  another  turn  at 
"Mr.  Rat,"  and  the  negro,  as  though  it  were  a  signal  to  him, 
dropped  on  his  knees,  rolled  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  and 
blubbered: 

"Ah've  got  to  go  back!  Ah've  got  to  go  back!  Right 
away,  or  yo'll  be  shot  up  and  ah  will  to!  Ah'm  attached 
to  dis  circus.  It  wouF  make  a  book  ef  ah  tol'  yo'  all,  an'  ef 
ah  stay  here  wid  yo'  now,  Mister  Crossdale,  dey'll  hab  me 
liver  and  me  lights." 

Crossdale  looked  at  him  in  frank  surprise.  "You  make 
me  sick,"  he  said.  But  he  saw  that  the  man's  excitement 
was  running  high. 

Jeff  went  on:  "Ah '11  shake  de  whol'  bunch  ober  at  Roda 
nex'  week,  trus'  me  as  fur  as  Roda,  Boss — dat's  all  ah  ask." 

Crossdale  was  furiously  angry  with  the  man.  "I'm  going 
to  have  you  arrested!  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  leave  this 
tower!" 

The  man  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was  slinking  toward 
the  door. 

"I  bet  it's  some  wretched  little  side-show  girl!"  Crossdale 
said.  "Some  miserable  little  native  woman  here,  you  fool!" 

The  man  burst  into  unexpected  giggles  and  covered  his 
mouth  with  his  hand.  "Boss,"  he  said,  "yo're  on,  yo'  sure 
am  on!" 

"Get  out,"  said  Crossdale,  irritatedly.  "I  expect  you'll 
turn  up  somewhere  before  I  get  on  the  boat  for  home.  But 
you  can  take  it  from  me,  Jeff  Robinson,  I  would  not  be 
surprised  if  the  next  costume  you  get  into  would  be  a 
striped  suitl" 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

KARMANIA    HAS    HER   WATERWAYS    AND    CROSSDALE 
A  RENDEZVOUS 

April  saw  the  tunnel  and  the  railway  completed  as  far  as 
Roda,  and  Crossdale  was  free  to  leave  Karrnania,  with  its 
traditions,  its  seditions,  its  beauty,  the  perfect  setting  that 
it  made  for  the  one  woman  in  the  world. 

The  news  of  the  opening  of  the  Royal  State  Railway 
spread  the  country  around.  From  the  hill  hamlets  and  from 
the  plain  cities  peasants  arrived  on  foot,  on  mule  back,  in 
oxcarts — pilgrims  to  worship  at  Crossdale's  modern  shrine. 
They  camped  on  the  plains,  spent  nights  on  the  road,  and 
trooped  to  the  capital  to  stare  at  the  mechanical  toys  that 
the  western  world  had  manufactured  for  them  and  to  gaze 
spellbound  at  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  as  it  opened  towards 
Cye. 

The  railway  would  be  soon  ready  to  carry  products  of 
the  country  westward,  and  the  waterway  opened  to  Kar- 
mania  at  last.  When  the  waste  had  been  removed  and  the 
ends  of  the  rails  bitten  into  each  other  and  clicked,  and  the 
track  cleared,  the  Prime  Minister  gave  orders  to  prepare 
a  gala  train  to  transport  the  members  of  the  court  and  the 
Queen  to  a  formal  opening  at  Roda.  There  would  be  a  great 
banquet  at  Las  Restaurus,  at  which  Crossdale  would  be 
the  guest  of  honor. 


302  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

But,  as  Crossdale  knew  and  the  Prime  Minister  knew, 
every  man  on  his  staff  knew,  things  were  not  good  in  the 
Kingdom,  not  good  at  all.  Unrest  had  culminated;  there 
was  constant  warfare  between  the  royal  troops  and  Sar- 
vanarof's  brigands.  No  week  passed  without  more  or  less 
decisive  battles.  Sarvanarof's  forces  were  being  fed  from 
the  Russian  border.  Public  buildings  had  been  blown  up  in 
Pratz-Zenoe,  hostages  taken,  plots  discovered  throughout 
the  country  to  abduct  the  Queen.  And  it  had  not  been  with- 
out great  hesitation  that  Karol  finally  decided  to  permit  any 
demonstration  regarding  the  opening  of  the  road.  It  had 
been  voted  in  Parliament,  however,  that  such  a  demonstra- 
tion, with  the  presence  of  the  Queen  and  the  Ministers,  would 
be  salutary. 

Although  workmen  had  been  on  strike  throughout  Kar- 
mania,  not  a  man  had  ever  knocked  off  work  on  the  rail- 
road, where  everything  seemed  under  special  protection. 
Nothing  had  hindered  the  building  of  the  road  since  Cross- 
dale  had  taken  it  in  hand. 

He  had  written  to  the  Queen.  He  wrote  in  English  and 
Karmanian.  He  was  deeply,  passionately  in  love,  and  he 
told  her  so,  forgetting  that  she  was  a  Queen.  He  sent  a 
letter  to  her  by  Serga  at  an  unearthly  hour  in  the  morning 
to  the  palace.  After  it  had  gone,  he  suffered  and  cursed 
and  swore  and  kicked  himself  for  an  ass,  and  was  happy 
about  it  and  glad  of  it  all  day. 

At  night,  at  another  unearthly  hour,  the  Queen's  mes- 
senger brought  him  an  answer.  No  woman  in  San  Francisco 
would  have  sent  an  answer  like  that  to  her  lover!  In  a  big, 
creamy  looking  envelope,  stamped  with  green  wax,  was  a 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  303 

filmy,  perfumed  veil,  caught  by  a  golden  tape.  He  knew 
that  it  was  the  veil  which  he  had  taken  from  her  face  at  the 
whirra.  He  slept  with  it  in  his  palm,  pressed  against  his 
lips. 

Her  wordless  answer  to  him  inspired  mad  and  wonder- 
ful letters  from  his  heart  and  senses.  Crossdale  in  these 
revealed  himself  to  this  woman  almost  unknown  to  him  in 
a  way  he  could  never  have  done  by  spoken  word.  She  had 
enchained  his  mind  and  his  soul.  He  had  responses  from 
her,  responses,  but  not  letters.  The  yellow  leaves  of  a 
fresh  rose,  scattered  in  an  envelope;  a  verse  from  the  song 
he  knew  so  well.  With  these  golden  communications  between 
himself  and  the  castle  he  was  obliged  to  exist  until  the 
opening  of  the  State  Railway. 

Jeff  Robinson  had  disappeared  completely  about  a  week 
before  and  as  soon  as  communications  were  established 
between  Cye  and  Savia  the  circus  went  to  Roda,  and  Cross- 
dale  amused  himself  by  watching  the  defile  of  the  pic- 
turesque paraphernalia  of  the  circus — animal  cages,  the 
circus  people,  the  brass  band,  roaring  and  in  great  form, 
until  its  noise  was  drowned  by  the  tunnel.  Above  the 
clamor  and  the  "Heljensl"  Crossdale  imagined  that  he  could 
distinguish  the  strains  of  "Mr.  Rat,"  but  he  was  probably 
mistaken. 

As  he  watched  the  barbaric  show  go  by  and  realized 
that  this  was  the  first  thing  to  take  road  by  his  tunnel,  he 
was  vastly  amused.  San  Francisco  and  Caleb  Storm — what 
would  they  have  thought  of  it  all? 

A  week  later  his  train-de-luxe  lined  up — second  best  to 
the  circus,  if  the  circus  had  anything  on  it  at  all!  Out  of 


304  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  electric  engine  the  Tartar  driver  leaned,  in  his  bright 
blue  shirt  and  tarbush.  He  was  smoking  a  five-inch  cigar. 
The  engine  was  invisible  for  the  green  and  white  bunting, 
the  Queen's  colors,  and  the  flower  wreaths  and  garlands 
that  decorated  it. 

Then  followed  the  improvised  passenger  coaches,  open 
cars  with  green  velvet  seats,  hung  with  flags — bunches  of 
the  Karmanian  flag,  green  and  white  striped,  with  a  black 
wolf  in  the  corner,  symbolic  of  Rome  and  the  Steppes — 
eight  little  coaches,  ready  to  transport  the  pick  of  the  court 
to  the  first  station  on  the  road,  little  Roda,  with  ten 
thousand  inhabitants,  etc. 

Over  the  plain,  like  a  sea  on  either  side,  swarmed  the 
proper  proportion  of  the  populace  for  an  event  of  this  kind 
— swarmed  enough  of  them  to  warrant  the  Royal  Police 
and  the  Royal  Guard  to  cordon  them  off.  But  the  crowd 
was  not  enthusiastic  as  he  had  seen  it  in  Karmania,  and  he 
felt  it.  It  was  a  silent,  curious  crowd,  interested  in  the 
tunnel,  in  the  railroad,  but  not  in  the  Government.  It 
would  not  have  been  possible  to  have  thought  otherwise. 
The  crowd  was  cordoned  off,  but  Crossdale  could  see  that 
there  was  a  good  understanding  between  the  people  and  the 
military.  The  "Heljensl"  were  weak,  and  only  when  he 
heard  them  shouting  "Ameriguinous  viva!"  did  their  hearts 
seem  to  be  in  their  voices. 

In  tarbushes  and  stiff  white  skirts,  floating  veils,  dark, 
swarthy  faces,  the  women  and  children  in  holiday  dress, 
taken  from  family  chests  or  fresh  from  the  embroiderer's 
loom,  they  might  have  stepped  out  from  the  Karmanian 
museum  of  antique  costume. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  305 

He  wondered  as  he  watched  the  people  come  and  go  and 
press  and  crowd  and  surge  toward  the  guards  along  the 
road,  what  would  happen  to  the  Queen  if  the  revolution- 
aries were  successful?  Would  it  free  her?  Would  she 
then  be  a  private  individual?  If  the  monarchy  held  on 
would  Karol  give  him  his  walking  papers,  or  could  he 
remain?  There  were  the  oil  wells  to  interest  him. 

He  thought  this  all  out  in  detail  as  he  stood  down  near  the 
little  grand  stand.  He  could  not  bear  to  be  seen  staring 
down  the  road  where  she  should  come.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  did  not  want  to  miss  the  impression  when  she  did  come. 
So  he  pulled  his  short  moustache,  gave  the  wrong  answers 
to  O 'Dell's  questions  and  stared  at  his  tunnel,  whose  arch 
was  completely  garlanded  with  decorations  and  flowers; 
and  over  the  top  was  a  mighty  blazon  with  the  Queen's  arms 
and  the  colors  of  the  Queen.  Within  he  could  see  the 
electric  lights,  green  and  white,  white  and  green,  tapering 
away.  Around  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  were  grouped  corps 
of  the  Queen's  Guard  in  full-dress  uniform,  riding  their 
Cossack  stallions. 

As  the  band  of  the  Royal  Guards  struck  up  the  Kar- 
manian  national  hymn,  he  saw  six  victorias,  drawn  by  gray 
Ukraine  hcrses,  each  horse  ridden  by  postilions,  come  fret- 
ting along  in  truly  royal  manner,  and  the  guests  disem- 
barked from  these  ancient  wheel  ships  at  the  "band  stand" 
as  Crossdale  mentally  called  it.  He  saw  them  go  up  and  take 
their  places — Queen  Karmen  Mara  and  some  twenty  min- 
isters and  officials  in  uniform  and  civilian  dress.  The  stand 
was  full  and  Crossdale,  whose  place  was  there,  had  been 
too  transfixed  by  the  sight  of  her  to  move. 


306  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

Prince  Karol  began  immediately  to  make  a  formal 
address,  flowery  and  voluble,  accompanied  by  suave  gesture; 
he  adjured  the  people  to  be  loyal  to  their  Sovereign.  But 
presumably  the  master  of  ceremonies  did  not  deem  the 
moment  propitious  for  such  adjurations,  for  the  band  broke 
into  music  and  drowned  the  Prime  Minister's  speech  with 
its  trumpets. 

Then  Crossdale  found  himself  standing  between  the 
Queen  of  Karmania  and  her  Prime  Minister  and  asking: 
"What  shall  I  say  to  them,  your  Majesty?"  He  heard  her 
murmur:  "Oh,  one  can  always  say  'God  bless  you'  and  some 
little  human  message." 

Crossdale  stood  out  like  a  man  at  the  platform  rail, 
smashed  his  hand  down  on  the  flowers  and  hit  a  couple  of 
thorns  through  the  roses,  and  gripped  them  until  his  palm 
bled.  He  started  off  in  a  fine  clear  voice,  in  honest  Kar- 
manian.  And  he  will  never  forget  it,  until  he  is  a  man  of 
eighty,  in  far  San  Francisco  or  any  good  old  American 
town — he  will  never  forget  it. 

He  said:  "God  save  the  Queen  1"  and  then  he  said: 
"Heljen/"  And  the  response  that  this  effected  told  him 
that  he  had  spoken  well.  And  he  called  out  to  them  collec- 
tively: "Skarervaro  batuchit"  and  smiled  his  Irish,  humor- 
ous smile,  and  he  was  young  and  strong  and  good  look- 
ing and  happy  and  in  love,  and  had  finished  their  tunnel  for 
them;  he  was  popular,  and  they  laughed  and  shouted  and 
treated  him  as  a  popular  speaker  should  be  treated  before 
he  leaves  the  platform. 

Then  she  went  forward  to  the  rail.  He  heard  her  voice  in 
its  delicious  tones  and  in  the  gracious  words  of  her  language. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  307 

She  smiled  on  her  people;  extended  her  hands  to  them.  And 
his  eyes  blurred  and  his  face  grew  hot;  and  he  wished  he 
might  have  been  a  little  boy  to  have  cried  without  shame. 
And  it  made  him  wild  and  furious  to  see  that  they  did  not 
respond  as  he  could  have  wished,  although  they  warmed  to 
her  more  than  they  would  have  done  had  she  not  followed 
his  little  speech. 

Afterwards  they  were  borne  off,  some  thirty  of  them  or 
more,  in  the  special  train;  the  little  cars  went  bumping  and 
humping  and  cogging  along  on  the  narrow  gauge  road  into 
his  tunnel,  through  Mount  Nepta. 

Princess  Mariska  was  not  here  for  the  opening  of  the 
State  Railroad.  She  had  been  gone  from  the  kingdom  ever 
since  Korvan's  imprisonment;  you  heard  of  her  in  Paris,  in 
London. 

The  Prime  Minister  asked  many  questions  of  Crossdale 
regarding  the  scientific  operations  of  the  excavations.  The 
Queen  was  silent.  Finally  they  saw  the  daylight;  the  arch 
grew  larger  and  larger,  and  Cye  and  Roda  waited  for  them, 
waited  to  greet  them  as  Savia  had  greeted  them.  The 
Syndic  of  Cye,  with  the  usual  accompaniment  of  homely 
little  girls  with  bouquets  of  flowers  surged  up  to  the  Queen's 
car.  They  were  surrounded  by  the  committee  of  welcome. 

Queen  Karmen,  Mara  leaned  down  over  the  car  to  the  little 
girl  who  handed  her  an  immense  bouquet  of  heartsease. 
She  said  to  Crossdale:  "Hold  my  flowers  for  me  a  moment, 
will  you,  while  I  kiss  this  little  girl?" 

And  as  the  American  took  the  bouquet  he  took  with  it 
something  that  was  unmistakably  a  letter,  and  understood  it 
was  for  him.  He  transferred  it  to  his  pocket. 


308  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

But  for  him  the  glory  of  the  day  was  gone — from  Cye 
to  Roda,  from  Roda  back  to  the  hunting  lodge,  where  a 
banquet  in  the  form  of  a  high  tea  was  prepared  for  them  at 
four  o'clock,  it  all  became  the  usual  tiresome  boring  busi- 
ness of  a  popular  festivity.  The  speeches,  the  music,  were 
an  unspeakable  bore. 

Two  things,  however,  were  real.  As  Karol  and  Cross- 
dale  and  the  assembled  party  refreshed  themselves  under  the 
trees  at  Roda,  a  red  carpet  was  spread  down  on  the  ground 
and  four  acrobats  from  the  circus  treated  them  to  some  very 
good  wrestling,  and  in  one  fashion  or  another  a  message 
found  its  way  into  Crossdale's  hand,  as  the  Queen's  had 
found  its  way  there.  It  was  from  Jeff. 

"Boss,  look  out  for  to  be  in  your  own  cabin  tonight  at 
Cye.  I  will  be  there  to  meet  you  before  dawn  tomorrow. 
Don't  you  miss  me,  Boss — it's  life  or  death." 

Crossdale  turned  the  letter  over,  musing.  He  would  go; 
he  would  certainly  be  there  to  meet  this  man  and  reckon 
with  him.  He  did  not  know  that  nothing  on  earth  could 
have  made  him  meet  this  appointment  or  any  other,  but  he 
found  it  out  when  he  read  the  Queen's  letter  that  afternoon, 
in  his  old  room  at  the  lodge,  Las  Restaurus,  when  he  went 
in  to  make  a  toilette  before  the  banquet. 

"I  have  gone  back  to  the  capital  in  order  that  you  may 
meet  me.  You  can  build  roads;  you  can  find  your  way 
back  over  them.  I  will  be  in  your  tower  at  eight  tonight, 
waiting  until  you  come." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

"HELJEN:  THE  QUEEN" 

Throughout  that  evening,  during  the  feast,  he  could  think 
of  nothing  but  the  fact  that  he  was  going  to  see  her  again, 
and  soon.  He  knew  now  why  he  had  come  to  Savia,  why 
Storm  had  dug  him  out  of  his  isolation;  he  knew  why  he 
had  been  spared  death  a  dozen  times  in  his  life — in  order 
that  he  might  live  for  once  like  this.  The  wonderful  part 
of  it  all  was  that  she  wanted  it  in  this  way,  that  it  was  her 
gracious  and  heavenly  idea!  He  could  have  kissed  the  hem 
of  her  dress  in  adoration  of  her  goodness.  She  was  a  queen 

true  enough.  A  million  times  and  far  away  better 

than  anything  else  she  was  a  woman. 

The  hunt  dining  room  at  Las  Restaurus  had  never  looked 
more  beautiful.  Although  it  was  still  daylight,  in  order  to 
create  a  false  darkness  for  the  banquet,  the  room  was  all 
shut  in  and  brilliantly  lighted.  The  customary  service  of 
highly  polished  pewter  was  used,  and  rare  flowers  had  been 
imported  for  the  occasion,  and  the  fruit  dishes,  even  in 
springtime,  were  stacked  high  with  forced  fruits — straw- 
berries, peaches,  nectarines,  all  from  the  royal  greenhouses. 
The  wines,  the  smoke  of  the  cigars  and  cigarettes,  the 
laughter  and  the  high  spirit  of  satisfaction  that  prevailed 
with  these  men,  gathered  to  celebrate  the  opening  of  the 
railroad,  made  an  atmosphere  that  seemed  to  palpitate 


310  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

around  Crossdale  and  to  create  a  penumbra  for  his  mental 
and  sentimental  excitement. 

The  cabinet  ministers,  men  high  in  the  army — in  short, 
every  one  whom  the  Prime  Minister  wished  to  honor,  were 
present  at  the  feast  and  the  American  wondered  how  much 
they  understood  of  the  really  rotten  condition  of  the  king- 
dom, of  the  danger  threatening  the  present  government.  He 
glanced  around  at  the  serene  faced  officials  who  seemed  to 
him  smug  and  contented  with  themselves  and  the  time.  He 
did  not  believe  they  could  ever  gather  up  the  ravelling 
threads  of  royalty;  the  tapestry  of  old  custom  and  tradition, 
Stephen  felt  sure  now,  could  not  hold  together  much  longer. 

As  he  looked  from  face  to  face,  he  thought  of  the  head  of 
the  revolutionaries,  as  he  had  seen  him  last  at  Jehanospelz, 
lying  bandaged  on  his  couch,  vibrant,  strong,  alive  with 
ideals  of  freedom.  Prince  John  seemed  the  coming  man  to 
the  American,  and  amongst  those  present  no  one  was  equal 
to  Sarvanarof  in  bearing  and  in  presence.  Prince  John's 
promise  to  appear  at  this  time  to  celebrate  the  opening  of 
the  railroad  came  back  to  his  mind  vividly.  It  seemed  a 
challenge  from  the  republican.  Would  he  keep  his  word? 

During  the  past  months  he  had  heard  much  of  the  dis- 
turbances throughout  Karmania.  He  was  thinking  of  all 
this  when  the  Minister  of  War,  Count  Fan  Streloa,  leaned 
over  to  speak  to  Prince  Karol,  including  the  engineer  in  his 
gesture  that  commanded  attention. 

"Before  we  lose  ourselves,  your  Excellency,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile,  as  though  he  anticipated  the  loss  that  it  was 
going  to  be  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  "before  we  forget 
ourselves  in  the  exhilaration  of  tonight,  I  wish  to  recall  to 


THE     QUEEN    OF     KARMANIA          311 

your  mind  the  measures  I  have  taken  to  ensure  tranquility," 
with  a  slight  and  deprecatory  gesture,  "and  as  your  Excel- 
lency knows,  for  the  moment  all  I  can  promise  to  do.  Pre- 
sumably from  Roumania  Prince  John  has  enlarged  his 
forces.  Yesterday  there  was  a  very  vigorous  skirmish  on 
the  plains  south  of  Jehanospelz,  to  our  advantage,  and  I 
have  stationed  fifteen  hundred  men  and  more  along  the 
line  to  the  west.  I  think  there  is  not  the  slightest  danger 
that  he  will  advance  with  his  brigands  for  the  present.  Yes- 
terday's whipping  was  a  sound  one.  He  lost  at  least  a 
hundred  and  fifty  men." 

Every  one  present  listened  intently,  but  the  Prime  Min- 
ister was  calm,  and  he  seemed  so  thoroughly  to  understand 
the  situation  and  so  ready  to  "lose  himself"  as  he  lifted  to 
his  lips  his  brilliantly  polished  pewter  goblet,  that  the 
others,  with  a  sigh,  settled  back  to  their  enjoyment.  Prince 
Karol's  face  was  grave. 

"Long  live  the  Monarchy!"  he  cried,  and  rose,  the  table 
rising  with  him,  en  masse.  "Long  live  the  Queen!" 

And  with  this  the  "Heljens/"  were  all  unchained  and  ran 
from  one  guest  to  another.  Crossdale  had  never  heard  such 
enthusiasm,  never  heard  her  name  cried  out  with  such  ardor. 
And  as  he  too  hailed  her,  with  so  many  blended  feelings  in 
his  heart,  he  did  not  know  that  never  again  would  he  hear 
this  cry  raised  for  Karmen  Mara,  that  it  was  the  last  he 
should  ever  hear  in  Karmania. 

The  Minister's  short,  perfunctory  speech  which  followed 
made  little  impression. 

The  air  was  surcharged  with  foreboding,  however,  to 
Crossdale.  He  was  confident  that  there  was  a  crisis  at  hand. 


312  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

A  banquet  in  Karmania  is  no  light  matter.  The  court  had 
waited  for  this  celebration  for  many  months.  It  was  a 
national  event.  Tonight  it  was  positively  nauseous  to  Cross- 
dale  to  see  them  gorge,  for  gorge  they  did.  He  was  a  man 
about  to  enter  paradise,  and  vulgar  feasting  meant  nothing 
to  him;  and  he  would  not  have  touched  a  drop  of  alcohol  for 
anything  in  the  world.  He  knew  that  he  must  keep  his 
brain  clear  in  order  properly  to  execute  his  sortie.  He  did 
not  care  to  study  his  companions  and  feasters,  but  the  room 
in  which  they  sat  seemed  to  him  very  delightful  and  attrac- 
tive tonight,  blazing  with  light,  glowing  with  color,  and  the 
majestic  heads  of  the  children  of  the  forest,  put  out  of  exist- 
ence by  man's  selfish  love  of  sport — stag,  deer,  wolf,  bear — 
looked  gravely  down  on  the  hunters  through  the  candles' 
glory  and  through  the  smoke. 

The  Prime  Minister  was  in  full  dress  uniform,  of  white 
broadcloth  and  tunic  covered  with  silver  brandebourgs  and 
decorations.  His  close  little  beard  shone  like  a  silver  beard, 
and  his  fine,  flexible  hand  caressed  it  from  time  to  time. 
But  tonight  he  was  very  grave,  and  now  and  then  he  leaned 
over  and  spoke  in  an  undertone  to  the  Minister  of  War, 
whom  he  had  placed  on  his  left  hand.  He  seemed,  now 
that  the  American  had  completed  his  work,  to  entirely  forget 
him,  But  this  difference  meant  little  to  the  young  man,  who 
asked  nothing  better.  Lifted  up  as  he  was  by  the  wings 
of  desire  and  passion,  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  fellow- 
men  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  feast  would  never,  never 
progress,  as  he  waited  for  these  men  to  fall  under  the  influ- 
ence of  their  wine.  Their  brains  must  be  clouded  before  he 
could  venture  to  leave  the  feast.  He  was  guest  of  honor 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  313 

and  though  already  no  longer  an  object  of  interest,  he  must 
be  sure  that  his  absence  would  not  be  observed. 

He  had  no  intention  of  leaving  the  house  by  the  front 
entrance,  where  the  servants,  guards,  treja  drivers  and  a 
crowd  of  retainers  and  soldiers  were  stationed  for  a  mile 
along  the  road.  But  Crossdale  had  not  spent  six  months  in 
Cye  and  its  environs  without  knowing  the  forest  path,  and 
he  knew  that  he  could  find  his  way.  Impatient,  restless,  he 
thought  to  himself:  "God,  if  I  miss  this  happiness — well, 
there  won't  be  anything  left  in  life  to  me  worth  a  candle." 

In  the  winter  garden  the  court  orchestra  was  playing  the 
fojk  songs  and  martial  airs,  and  the  music  alone  seemed 
friendly  and  intimate,  to  understand  his  mood  and  his 
excitement.  He  heard  the  Queen's  songs  and  the  pretty 
dance  tune  to  which  he  had  danced  at  Heidi-Luc,  when  she 
had  thrown  herself  upon  his  breast.  Nothing  in  the  world 
could  have  come  to  him  more  delightfully  than  this  barbaric 
eager  music,  which  stimulated  him  and  inspired  him.  He 
must  go! 

Now  that  the  railroad  was  opened,  the  Minister  of  Com- 
merce was  saying,  they  would  begin  immediately  to  cut 
timber  and  rush  it  through  to  Austria  and  beyond.  Desecra- 
tion, Crossdale  thought.  All  the  forests  around  this  lodge 
should  be  sacred.  He  had  kissed  her  under  those  pines  and 
cedars  for  the  first  time!  Those  pink-trunked  trees  had 
seen  the  first  of  his  bliss!  No  axe  should  ever  touch  them 
if  he  could  have  his  way. 

Even  if  he  should  find  a  treja  ready,  or  a  horse,  it  would 
take  him  two  hours  to  reach  Cye,  and  after  that  an  hour  or 
more  to  go  through  the  tunnel.  If  he  did  not  find  a-  hand 


314  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

car  which  he  could  manoeuvre  himself,  he  would  have  to 
walk,  over  refuse  and  debris  and  through  the  mud;  but  he 
knew  every  foot  of  the  way.  Had  he  not  made  it?  Go 
through  he  would,  if  he  had  to  crawl. 

They  were  beginning  their  series  of  toasts  and  gave  "The 
Queen"  again,  and  it  took  several  seconds  for  the  echoes  to 
subside.  On  fire,  trembling,  no  one  knew  how  the  toast 
appealed  to  this  stranger.  Crossdale  cried  out  "HeljenI" 
with  the  others. 

What  would  Prince  Karol,  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs,  all  of  them,  the  grave  old  Johnnies,  beginning 
already  to  feel  their  wine,  what  would  they  say  if  they  knew 
that  in  a  few  hours  the  Queen  of  Karmania  would  be  in  his 
arms?  Personally  he  felt  so  set  apart  from  them,  so  sur- 
rounded by  some  sort  of  magic  enchantment,  that  he  could 
hardly  believe  he  was  in  the  flesh. 

When  they  had  remembered  him  sufficiently  to  lift  their 
glasses  and  give  "Mr.  Crossdale,"  and  this  too  had  died 
away  in  silence,  he  felt  that  his  time  was  coming.  After  a 
few  seconds,  when  they  were  all  engaged  in  discussions  in 
little  twos  and  threes,  red  faced,  and  the  wine  was  flowing 
like  blood  and  sunlight,  he  pushed  his  chair  gently  from  the 
table  and  how  he  could  never  have  told — in  a  few  seconds 
found  himself  in  the  corridor.  The  soft  radiance  of  the  day- 
light smote  him  gently,  but  it  was  cold  and  pale  after  the 
unreal  glare  of  the  surcharged  room. 

Stephen  stretched  his  arms  wide,  thanking  high  heaven 
for  his  release.  He  rushed  into  his  little  sitting  room, 
where  his  things  were  waiting,  took  his  cap  and  stick  and  a 
pocketful  of  cigarettes,  felt — as  he  had  a  way  of  doing  in. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  315 

Karmania — for  his  hip  pocket,  and  what  he  wanted  was 
there;  and  without  being  observed  or  challenged  by  any 
one,  he  found  himself  out  in  the  weeded  paths  leading  down 
to  the  stables.  He  did  not  need  to  go  all  the  way  down  to 
the  dependencies,  full  now  of  servants  carousing  and  of  the 
trejas  which  had  brought  in  some  hundred  guests,  for  in 
order  to  make  room  for  the  others,  tethered  to  a  little  bar- 
ricade, were  two  or  three  of  the  Queen's  treja  horses,  little 
stallions,  tied  far  enough  apart  from  each  other  to  be  safe. 
They  were  bridle-less  and  innocent  of  any  saddle,  but  this 
was  what  the  American  preferred  in  the  way  of  transporta- 
tion. It  would  awaken  no  interest;  it  could  tell  no  tales. 

He  stroked  the  soft  nose  of  the  little  beast  nearest  him; 
he  caressed  the  satiny  neck;  then  bent  down  and  whispered 
into  the  silken  ear  the  Karmanian  term  of  endearment  of  a 
beloved  horse:  "Mas  felona — my  little  bird." 

He  loosened  the  stallion.  Riding  such  as  this  was  like 
native  air  to  him.  In  a  few  moments  he  had  flung  his  leg 
across  the  bare  back  of  the  beast,  clinging  to  him  as  he 
reared  and  plunged. 

There  had  been  during  the  work  on  the  railroad  a  timber 
trail  cut  from  Cye  to  the  Queen's  lodge.  New  dependencies 
and  buildings  had  been  planned  by  the  Queen  for  her  forest 
house,  and,  too,  they  had  been  cutting  timber  and  carrying 
it  by  ox  and  mule  cart  along  this  rough  trail.  But  Cross- 
dale  knew  it  well.  It  was  rough  going,  but  a  perfectly 
possible  way  for  a  horse  to  take.  This  path  he  found  and 
for  two  hours  rode  through  the  pale  spring  night,  not  meet- 
ing a  creature  or  disturbed  by  any  human  element  between 
the  lodge  and  the  village. 


316  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

As  he  rode  the  owls  called  to  him  and  asked  him  who  he 
was  and  whom  he  loved;  and  Crossdale  laughed  out  to  them 
as  he  rode  on  his  beautiful  adventure.  The  night  hawks 
circled  low  down,  close  to  his  head  as  he  rode,  flying  like  a 
primitive  man,  clinging  close  to  the  back  of  his  mad  little 
stallion.  Once  or  twice  he  thought  he  heard  in  the  far  dis- 
tance the  bay,  the  melancholy  cry  of  the  wolf  mother, 
already  fecund,  and  calling  forth  into  the  night  her  exulta- 
tion in  the  fulfillment  of  her  destiny. 

And  the  young  Calif ornian  thought  as  he  rode:  If  this 
is  the  most  mad  and  unwise  thing  in  my  life;  if  it  is  going  to 
bring  me  anguish  and  sorrow  later;  if  I  die  for  it — in  spite 
of  all  I  am  glad!  "Heljent"  he  murmured  close  to  the  ear 
of  the  little  stallion. 

And  it  was  well  after  nightfall  when  he  saw  the  furtive 
sparks,  the  little  lights  of  sleepy  Cye. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE   CUP  AT  THE  LIPS 

It  was  midnight  before  he  saw  his  tower  rising  like  a 
brown  lily  on  the  plain  and  heard  from  the  belfry  twelve 
sonorous  peals.  In  that  part  of  the  castle  where  was  the 
belfry  were  the  royal  prisons,  set  apart  for  political  suspects. 
Prince  John  and  Prince  Sarvan  had  both  been  held  there, 
until  the  Queen's  generosity  had  set  them  free  to  plot 
against  her  afresh. 

He  made  his  way  by  meadow  paths  across  the  spring  fields 
to  his  slender  tower,  rising  black  in  the  fair  night.  There 
was  no  light  to  indicate  that  any  one  watched  for  him 
within.  The  plains,  peaceful  and  pastoral,  slept  under  the 
starlit  sky.  The  scene  suggested  only  peace.  And  the  jewel 
city  of  little  Savia  rested  tranquilly  on  its  hill,  a  deepset 
light  burning  here  and  there. 

He  had  come  stealing  through  the  sleeping  town  of  Cye 
like  a  thief,  on  foot,  setting  his  stallion  free  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest.  He  had  struck  it  once  on  the  flank  and  the 
little  creature  had  charged  back  across  the  forest  road  in  the 
direction  of  Las  Restaurus.  Whether  the  stallion  ever 
munched  the  grass  with  his  fellows  again  Crossdale  never 
knew. 

He  had  been  obliged  to  pass  by  his  own  little  office  at  the 
railroad  yards,  and  to  his  surprise  he  saw  a  light  burning. 


318  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

He  wondered  who  was  there,  and  for  what  purpose?  That, 
too,  he  never  knew,  for  he  did  not  go  to  see.  Nothing  in 
the  world  could  have  delayed  him  or  kept  him  from  forging 
ahead  toward  the  other  end  of  the  Nepta  tunnel. 

It  struck  him  even  then  curiously  that  there  was  not  a 
guard  in  sight,  not  a  man,  not  a  creature.  The  little  train 
on  which  they  had  come  through  that  day  stood  side- 
tracked. Even  the  lights,  burning  always,  white  and  green, 
in  the  tunnel,  were  out.  The  place  was  in  total  darkness; 
there  was  not  a  light  switched  on.  What  could  it  mean? 

To  have  gone  to  the  electric  plant  to  have  informed  him- 
self would  have  taken  time.  He  made  his  way  to  the  entrance 
of  the  tunnel,  prepared  to  walk  through,  when  he  saw  stand- 
ing on  the  track  a  hand  car,  the  same  type  of  little  dummy- 
car  on  which  he  had  ridden  to  Roda  with  the  Queen.  This 
should  be  his  carriage. 

He  sprang  on  it,  started  the  brakes,  when,  at  the 
entrance  of  the  tunnel,  just  as  he  was  about  to  plunge  into 
the  total  darkness  of  the  mountain  way  which  his  science 
and  skill  had  opened,  he  was  seized  around  the  waist  by  a 
man's  strong  arms  and  in  Karmanian  some  one  said  to  him: 

"Give  the  countersign." 

But  the  guard  had  seized  the  wrong  man,  the  wrong  man 
for  him.  He  caught  Crossdale  round  the  waist,  but  he  had 
left  the  young  man's  arms  free.  In  another  moment  the 
American  had  freed  himself  by  striking  the  man's  chin  up, 
almost  breaking  his  neck.  Whether  he  did  so  or  not  he  never 
knew.  The  man  fell  back,  tumbled,  and  Crossdale  ran  after 
his  car,  which  had  continued  its  voyage  some  few  yards 
into  the  tunnel. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  319 

He  heard  a  shot  fired,  but  it  was  not  until  he  was  well 
along,  and  he  felt  the  blood,  that  he  realized  that  he  had 
been  hit.  The  wound  was  slight.  He  sucked  it,  took  his 
handkerchief  and  bound  it  up  as  well  as  he  could.  It  was 
nothing — a  scratch.  And  he  had  been  able  to  hike  his  way 
through,  to  pump  his  way  through,  to  drive  his  little 
dummy-car  from  one  end  of  the  tunnel  to  the  other  with  no 
further  adventure.  When  he  had  thrown  himself  off,  leaving 
his  car  on  the  rails  at  the  tunnel's  mouth,  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  his  tower,  he  was  dripping  with  perspira- 
tion, dirty,  panting,  bloody,  and  like  this  he  ran  to  her. 

Alongside  his  eagerness  to  see  the  Queen  ran  his 
terrible  anxiety  for  her  future  and  her  safety.  The  country 
was  on  the  verge  of  revolution,  passionate,  stormy — he 
would  not  have  been  surprised  at  any  moment  to  hear  the 
bells  from  those  belfries  ring  the  tocsin.  Even  now  the 
vibrant  notes  of  midnight,  whose  pulsations  seemed  unwill- 
ing to  die  on  the  evening  air,  were  ominous  to  him. 

His  tower  was  deserted.  But  Queen  Karmen  Mara  had 
royally  commandeered  it  for  tonight  for  their  wonderful 
adventure  and  she  would  find  a  way  to  enter  and  leave  in 
secrecy.  Was  she  not  the  Queen? 

He  opened  with  his  key  and  pushed  in  the  deepset,  iron- 
nailed  door  on  to  darkness.  Nothing  betrayed  light  in  the 
ancient  mouldy  shell,  and  he  crept  cautiously  up  the  wind- 
ing stairway,  feeling  his  way  in  the  dark. 

At  the  top  of  the  stairs  under  his  door  a  golden  line  of 
light  lay  along  the  floor  like  a  thread  dropped  from  the  web 
of  romance.  He  pushed  the  door  in,  his  heart  pounding 
hard  against  his  side— soiled,  dusty  with  travel,  his  injured 


320  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

hand  bound  with  his  handkerchief,  now  stained  with  blood, 
hatless — a  pilgrim  of  love  at  the  shrine  at  last,  and  stood 
looking  into  the  room. 

The  Queen  of  Karmania  had  cleared  his  table  to  cover 
it  with  a  gold  woven  tapestry  cloth.  On  this  she  had  spread 
a  little  feast  in  silver  dishes:  wine,  a  cold  bird,  bright 
peaches  like  suns.  In  the  same  kind  of  dress  the  women  of 
her  people  who  in  their  passion  throw  themselves  upon  their 
lover's  breasts  have  been  used  to  wear  for  hundreds  of  years, 
she  sat  swinging  one  high-heeled  red-shod  foot.  Smoking  a 
cigarette,  her  cheeks  carmine,  her  eyes  shadow  and  fire,  she 
watched  the  door. 

Karmen  Mara  had  done  a  mad  thing  and  she  knew  %  and 
liked  it  none  the  less  for  this.  Life  had  been  created  for  her 
hitherto  by  others;  less  than  most  people  she  had  made  her 
fate.  Taken  from  the  people  to  satisfy  the  caprice  of  a 
selfish  man,  she  had  been  forced  to  follow  the  groove  for 
which  she  had  not  been  originally  intended.  Now  for  once 
in  her  life  she  determined  to  have  her  way.  Come  what 
would,  cost  her  what  it  might,  she  had  calmly  decided  to 
take  for  herself  out  of  life  its  greatest  treasure. 

She  did  not  move  as  the  American  came  in,  remaining  as 
she  was,  one  hand  on  her  hip,  the  other  holding  the  cigar- 
ette to  her  lips,  calling  out  to  him  across  the  room  in  her 
rich  voice:  "Skarervaro  batuchol  Stranger,  rider,  welcome! 
Welcome!"  Then  exclaimed  tenderly,  leaning  forward  and 
staring  at  him:  "But  you're  hurt!  You're  hurt!" 

The  stranger  who  had  come  from  far,  who  had  asked 
none  of  the  glory  of  the  kingdom,  nothing  but  love,  had  his 
apotheosis  then.  Swung  up  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  sensa- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  321 

tion  and,  as  at  one  time  or  another  all  climbers  feel,  he  was 
sure  that  he  had  made  an  ascension  never  reached  by  any- 
one before.  He  went  over  to  her  where  she  sat  on  the  table, 
and  put  his  arms  round  her.  He  held  her  closely,  but  kept 
his  bloody  hand  away  that  it  might  not  stain  her  white 
bodice  and  said:  "Oh,  no,  not  hurt — healed." 

No  love  story  since  Eden  tells  so  well  as  the  Book  of 
Genesis  the  incident  and  the  adventure  of  love.  "Adam  fell 
into  a  deep  sleep."  The  mystery  of  the  woman,  the 
mystery  of  mating,  is  only  a  dream. 

As  he  looked  back  at  that  dazzling  time,  it  always  seemed 
to  Crossdale  a  vision,  unique,  transcendent,  and  above 
everything  else  intangible. 

Close  to  the  fireplace,  before  the  table,  ran  a  deenset  sofa, 
covered  with  old  green  velour.  Crossdale  broke  his  dream 
with  a  sigh,  both  her  hands  in  his  well  hand,  the  light  on 
his  face  and  brow  which  transfigures  a  man  in  a  woman's 
eyes.  His  left  Land  bound  in  a  napkin,  part  of  the  royal 
linen  chest,  of  damask-like  satin.  She  had  bathed  his  hand. 
The  operation  had  taken  long,  although  the  wound  was  deep. 

He  told  her  from  beginning  to  end  what  he  knew  of  the 
revolutionary  forces,  speaking  rapidly,  intensefully;  of 
Jehanospelz,  Prince  John;  he  said  he  believed  in  Prince 
John's  lucky  star.  He  spared  her  nothing,  looking  at  her 
intently.  She  sat  close  to  him,  listening,  half-defiant,  wholly 
attentive,  and  more  than  sceptical. 

He  dwelt  upon  the  unrest  throughout  the  country;  what 
he  knew  of  the  activity  of  Prince  John's  spies.  And  then  he 
told  her  of  the  impression  made  upon  them  all  by  the  speech 
of  the  Minister  for  War. 


322  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

"I  may  be  wrong,"  he  said.  "Years  of  your  peaceful  gov- 
ernment may  prove  me  an  alarmist.  But  I  think  the  time 
is  ripe.  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  the  blow  fell  at  any 
moment.  And,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  fixedly,  "if  it  does, 
if  this  republican  chief  becomes  the  President  of  Karmania, 
what  will  happen  to  you?" 

Karmen  Mara  shook  off  everything  he  said  as  though  it 
were  a  bad  dream.  She  put  both  her  hands  on  his  shoulders, 
looked  into  his  eyes.  She  could  have  made  him  forget 
everything  in  the  world,  but  he  would  not  let  her  and 
returned  her  look  steadily,  earnestly. 

"You  must  think  of  it,"  he  said,  "you  must  think  of  it. 
You  must  be  ready." 

He  lifted  both  her  hands  from  his  shoulders  and  held 
them  tightly.  "Now,"  he  said,  "so  much  for  Karmania  and 
its  transformations.  After  all,  your  country  is  only  follow- 
ing in  the  line  of  the  others.  It's  progress,  and  no  one  can 
help  it.  But  I  don't  want  you  part  of  these  transforma- 
tions. I  come  from  a  big  democracy;  there  are  few  puppets 
with  us,  or  marionettes.  We  are  simply  a  people  of  one 
class  really  from  coast  to  coast.  You  are  not  royal ;  there  is 
not  a  drop  of  royal  blood  in  your  veins  any  more  than  there 
is  in  mine.  You  come  from  the  people;  you  were  born  free. 
Why,  in  God's  name,  shouldn't  you  return  to  freedom?  My 
coming  tonight,"  he  continued,  with  great  charm  of  sim- 
plicity and  frankness,  "looks  like  a  big  adventure,  like  the 
wild  recklessness  of  a  man  in  love  with  a  woman,  no  matter 
what  she  is,  no  matter  what  he  is.  I  am  not  a  prince  of  the 
blood,  but  I  am  able  to  offer  you  quite  a  little  kingdom  in 
my  own  country."  He  smiled.  "Hundreds  of  acres  of  rich, 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  323 

yielding  land,  a  fortune,  everything  an  honest  man  can  give 
to  his  wife."  He  stopped.  He  saw  her  pale.  "I  want  to 
protect  you,  to  care  for  you,  and  after  all,  it  is  only  a 
man's  right,  isn't  it,  to  ask  the  woman  he  cares  for  to  come 
with  him,  to  follow  him?" 

Now  she  drew  her  hands  away  from  him,  and  he  let  her 
go,  watching  her;  he  saw  a  shadow  fall  across  her  face  and 
she  said  abruptly: 

"What  a  dear  you  are,  Stephen  Crossdale!  So  American 
and  so  sweet!  Why,  you  talk  as  though  you  could  make 
dreams  come  true!  Even  if  there  should  be  trouble  in  my 
country,  do  you  think  I  would  leave  my  people  and  go 
away?" 

In  the  light  of  the  candles,  the  brown  old  room's  glow 
and  shadows  round  her,  big-eyed,  bright-cheeked,  graceful 
and  adorable  in  her  peasant  dress,  she  might  have  been  a 
girl  in  masquerade.  The  whole  thing  seemed  unreal  but  her 
eyes  and  her  lips  and  the  touch  of  her. 

"Ah,  but  when  Prince  John  is  President  of  Karmania  they 
won't  be  your  people,  you  will  owe  them  nothing."  He  threw 
his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed 
her  many  times. 

"Shake  this  crumbling  old  dust  from  your  feet  and  go — 
or  rather,  come,  my  dear." 

Karmen  Mara  sprang  up.  She  changed  with  wonderful 
rapidity  from  the  woman  to  the  Queen,  and  in  a  second  she 
seemed  cruelly  removed  from  him,  as  though  a  gulf  were 
fixed  between  them.  She  played  with  the  heavy  stuff  of  the 
cloth  on  the  table  at  her  side;  hard  and  heavy  it  lay  between 
her  finger  tips.  On  the  table  were  the  remains  of  their  dis- 


324  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

turbed  feast — a  little  wine  in  the  glasses,  the  pips  and  the 
skins  of  the  delicious  peaches.  He  watched  her.  She  was 
pale,  her  lips  trembled.  She  was  not  hesitating;  she  was 
wondering  how  to  tell  him. 

"I  am  not  frightened  in  the  least,  of  what  you  tell  me  of 
the  disturbances  in  Karmania,"  she  said.  "A  Queen  is  not 
supposed  to  have  ordinary  emotions.  Before  I  go  on, 
before  I  say  what  I  am  going  to  say,  you  must  believe  that 
I  care  for  you."  He  would  have  rushed  to  her;  but  she  held 
him  back. 

"Please  let  me  speak!  When  the  King  took  me  from  the 
people  and  made  me  Queen  of  Karmania,  he  gave  me  a  royal 
gift  which,  unless  they  tear  it  from  me,  I  shall  never  lay 
down."  With  a  fine  lifting  of  her  head  she  said:  "Certainly 
never  from  fear,"  and  added,  "not  even  for  love." 

A  great  anguish  seized  him.  His  madness  and  folly,  what 
this  would  mean  to  him  later,  rushed  over  him.  He  had  put 
his  soul  in  this  woman  and  leaving  her  for  ever  would  mean 
spiritual  and  mental  death  to  him.  But  he  said,  with  laud- 
able control:  "Then  it  is  merely  the  old  story  of  a  man  who 
loved  a  Queen?  Romance  is  full  of  such  folly,  but  when  it 
comes  to  one's  self,  reading  story  books  does  not  make  it 
any  easier  to  bear."  He  asked  her  with  great  simplicity: 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"Ah,"  she  said,  drawing  a  breath  that  seemed  like  a 
breath  of  relief,  "I  want  you  to  go  of  your  own  free  will, 
before  you  are  thrust  out  of  the  Kingdom  by  the  Prime  Min- 
ister's command.  You  don't  know  Prince  Karol;  he  is 
intrigant,  very  subtle.  Your  passports  are  already  signed. 
Now  that  you  have  accomplished  what  he  wanted  you  to  do, 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  325 

he  has  no  further  use  for  you.  Promise  me  that  you  will 
understand,  in  the  name  of  tonight,  promise  me  you  will  go 
as  soon  as  you  can." 

"No."  he  said  quietly,  "I  will  not  go  and  leave  you  to  the 
mercy  of  events." 

"You  must,"  she  said.  "You  have  no  choice  in  the 
matter.  If  I  had  not  known  that  you  would  be  out  of  Kar- 
mania  in  the  next  few  hours  I  should  never  have  let  you 
come  tonight.  Can't  you  understand?  This  is  something 
that  has  been  snatched  by  us  both.  You  must  go!" 

Infuriated  at  his  own  impotence  with  what  he  saw  was 
fate,  he  cried:  "You  dismiss  me  as  you  would  a  valet!" 

And  Karmen  Mara  blazed  out  at  him:  "You  have  no 
right,  no  right!" 

He  caught  her  to  him  again,  holding  her  until  it  seemed 
as  though  there  were  only  one  of  them  in  the  shadow. 
Before — for  she  seemed  to  yield,  she  seemed  to  return  into 
the  circle  of  his  embrace  and  magnetism — before  he  could 
urge  anything  more  upon  her,  or  formulate  his  fears  and  his 
dread  of  Prince  John,  the  first  sound  that  had  broken  the 
isolation  or  the  silence  around  them,  made  them  both  start. 

"Listen!"  she  said  "Listen! — It  is  the  changing  of  the 
guard  at  the  castle.  It  is  their  bugle.  I  must  go — it  is 
nearly  morning.  What  if  they  should  find  me  here?  It 
would  mean  your  ruin!  Help  me  to  get  out  of  your  window, 
the  window  of  your  bedroom,  the  way  I  came  in." 

She  snatched  up  from  the  sofa,  where  they  had  been  sit- 
ting, a  long  black  cloth  cape,  such  as  the  peasant  women 
wear  on  Sundays,  buckled  the  big  silver  buckle.  She  drew 
its  hood  over  her  head  and,  wrapping  it  round  her,  fled  from 


326  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  studio  through  his  bedroom,  and  he  helped  her  out  of  the 
open  window,  on  to  the  little  winding  outside  staircase,  con- 
cealed by  the  thick  old  ivy  vines,  a  way  of  descent  only  to 
be  made  by  some  one  who  knew  it  well. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  follow  her,  understanding  too  well 
what  it  would  mean  to  her  to  be  found  there  with  him.  But 
he  watched  her  dark  slender  figure,  with  peaked  hood,  like  a 
fairy  cape,  descend  the  winding  staircase  until  it  was  lost 
in  the  darkness  of  the  vines  and  the  night. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

ZITO'S    BLOOD    TOKEN 

When  she  had  gone,  he  threw  himself  down  before  the 
table,  and  with  his  head  on  his  arms  gave  himself  up  to  a 
moment  of  impotent  despair.  He  could  have  raged,  he 
could  have  wept.  He  wanted  to  fight  the  fates,  to  tear  the 
web  of  circumstance  apart  and  find  an  every  day  man's 
solution  to  the  problem  of  his  life.  But  his  moment  of  self- 
absorption  and  of  rebellion  was  short,  cut  in  twain  by  a 
sharp  silver  sound,  the  crying  of  a  bugle,  a  long  bright  call, 
and  an  answer. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  first  notes  came  from  the 
direction  of  his  tunnel,  and  the  answer  from  the  enceinte  of 
the  city.  These  were  the  signals  he  had  been  mentally  bark- 
ening for,  the  response  to  his  question  as  to  where  were  the 
forces  of  John  Sarvanarof. 

There  was  a  sound  of  the  clattering  of  steps  upon  the 
stairs.  His  door  was  struck  in  and  a  motley  looking  figure 
fell  into  the  room.  Crossdale  half  caught  him  in  his  arms, 
and  Jeff  Robinson  sank  down  at  his  feet — Jeff,  almost 
unrecognizable,  hatless,  covered  with  mud  and  dirt,  a  piti- 
able object. 

The  negro  lifted  his  face  to  his  master,  pallid  in  his  excite- 
ment, and  his  outstretched  hands  trembled  as  he  held  them 


328  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

up  in  supplication.  It  was  like  an  anti-civil  war  picture  of 
a  slave  asking  for  mercy  from  a  brutal  overseer. 

"Boss,  why  didn't  yo'  go  to  de  cabin,  like  ah  tol'  yo'  to? 
Ah  waited  dere  fo'  yo'  all  night  long.  Ah  could  'a  got  yo' 
clear  away  from  Cye,  Boss!  Ah  had  it  all  fixed  up.  Fo  de 
lub  o'  Gawd—" 

"Come,"  said  his  master,  sternly,  "get  up!  Pull  yourself 
together."  He  tried  to  draw  the  man  to  his  feet,  but  the 
negro  crumpled  like  a  rag,  clinging  to  Crossdale's  knees. 

Now  here  was  a  thing  on  which  he  could  wreck  his  dis- 
tress and  his  wretchedness,  and  a  man  at  bay  always  looks 
for  an  outlet.  He  could  have  struck  the  man  as  he  knelt, 
and  lifted  his  hand. 

"Kill  me!"  said  the  negro.  "Yo'  couldn't  kill  me  enough! 
Only  listen!  Yo'  got  to  git  out  ob  hyar,  Mister  Crossdale, 
somehow  or  udder,  double  quick!" 

Crossdale  forcibly  drew  him  to  his  feet.  He  half  flung 
him  on  the  sofa.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  him,  and  yet 
something  in  the  creature  was  so  appealing,  so  pathetic,  so 
helpless,  that  it  cooled  his  rage.  He  poured  out  a  glass  of 
wine  and  gave  it  to  the  negro.  "Drink  this." 

With  his  teeth  chattering  at  the  edge  of  the  glass,  Jeff 
blubbered  out:  "Boss,  dey  sayde  ef  ah'd  gine  dem  an'  keep 
dem  posted  on  li'le  odd  jobs  dey  wanted,  dey  would  come 
up  gran'  at  de  en',  boss.  Dey 're  a  fat  line  ob  hawgs!  Dat's 
what  dey  is!  Dey's  de  meanes'  bunch  ob  spo'ts  ah  ebber  see. 
But  it's  too  late." 

Bending  above  him,  half  inclined  to  shoot  him  as  he  sat 
there,  gurgling  and  trying  to  exculpate  himself,  Crossdale 
said:  "Don't  talk  to  me  about  any  one  else  but  yourself! 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  329 

You  scoundrel,  you  fool!    You  have  spied  on  me  for  them, 
have  you?    You're  not  fit  to  shoot!" 

"Boss,"  said  the  man,  clasping  his  hands,  "yo'  dunno 
what  I  done  it  foV 

"I  don't  know  where  to  kick  you  to— if  I  did,  you 
wouldn't  know  at  what  speed  you  were  traveling." 

"Dey  sayde,"  he  heard  the  negro  murmur,  "dat  ef  ah'd 
stan'  by  dem  'twill  t'night,  dey'd  make  yo'  Presiden'  ob  de 
New  Republic." 

The  negro's  idiocy,  his  weakness,  his  miserable  bedraggled 
condition,  spoke  for  him  to  Crossdale's  compassion  stronger 
than  his  words.  He  was  a  miserable  fool,  a  poor  tool,  but  he 
was  an  American  citizen  and  in  a  way  he  belonged  to  him. 
He  knew  the  negro  type  so  well.  In  a  flash  he  understood 
how  the  others  had  played  upon  his  vanity  and  his  love  of 
display.  He  saw  how  the  man  was  dressed,  in  the  uniform 
of  Prince  John's  soldiers.  He  had  some  kind  of  ridiculous 
decoration  on  his  chest.  They  had  tricked  him  out,  laughed 
at  him,  made  fun  of  him,  but  used  him  all  the  while.  More 
than  that,  they  had  kept  him  away  from  his  master  for  their 
own  reasons. 

"President  of  the  New  Republic!"  His  master  laughed 
harshly.  "Gosh,  you're  a  poor  nut!" 

"Boss,  I  done  crawled  tru'  de  tunnel  on  ma  belly  to  git 
t'  yo'  t'night!  I  swum  de  ditch!  I  foun'  a  gyard  midway 
who  di'n't  want  to  let  ma  by,  an'  sure  to  Gawd  he's  drinkin' 
up  de  dirty  water  as  he  lies.  Ah  sure  had  to  come  t'  yo', 
Boss." 

"All  right.  Now  that  you  have  got  that  wine  inside  you, 
get  up.  What's  your  idea,  if  you  have  any,  for  pulling  out 


330  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

of  here?  But  you  are  a  damned  tool  of  Sarvanarof — I 
wouldn't  trust  you  to  lead  me  to  a  church." 

"No,  no,"  cried  the  negro.  "Yo'  knows  ah  ain'  a  skunk, 
yo'  knows  ah  only  did  it  fo'  yo',  Boss!  You'se  done  de 
fines'  man  in  de  world  an'  ah  wanted  to  see  yo'  way  up!" 

His  master  looked  round  the  room.  He  would  not  be 
taken  alive  if  they  were  going  to  take  him  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap,  and  as  he  glanced  about  to  see  what  point  he  could 
make  a  vantage  of,  the  negro  caught  his  arm.  "Hark!" 

And  now  they  could  distinguish  the  sound  of  many  voices, 
cries  and  calls,  and  the  advancing  hoofs  of  horses  beating  on 
the  road  leading  to  the  town.  Over  and  over  again  now  to 
them  came  from  a  thousand  throats  what  Crossdale  had  been 
waiting  for  for  days,  for  months.  "Sava,  sava,  Jehannos! 
Sava  Jehanos!" 

He  threw  open  the  blind  of  the  eastward  window.  Over 
the  plains  the  dawn  was  coming  now,  white  and  rose- 
hemmed.  On  its  hill  Savia,  cold  and  dark,  lightless,  erect, 
rose  solemn  and  toneless  in  the  gray  light.  It  fronted  the 
cries,  it  fronted  the  advancing  troops  of  the  rebel  army  as 
the  little  hill  city  had  done  in  the  ancient  days  when  the 
hordes  of  barbaric  invaders  had  broken  the  Roman  sway. 

As  he  looked  up  to  the  castle  he  saw  the  proud  flag,  which 
fluttered  always  from  the  tower  where  the  Queen's  apart- 
ments were  when  she  was  at  home,  hauled  down.  It  fell, 
fluttering,  ruffling — but  it  fell.  And  he  saw  the  plains  below 
the  city  walls  black  with  soldiers.  The  Queen's  Guard,  the 
Royal  Fusiliers — all  ready  to  meet  their  brothers  in  arms, 
and  to  amalgamate  in  one  big  army  of  rebellion  against  the 
monarchy. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  331 

From  belfry  to  belfry  the  bells  began  to  call  and  answer. 
Over  the  crashing  and  the  jangling  and  the  pealing  the  hour 
of  four  rang  out  from  one  big  bell.  This  was  the  tocsin  at 
last!  Now  he  heard  it,  as  he  had  expected  to  hear  it,  sound- 
ing the  retreat  for  the  monarchical  rule. 

He  went  over  to  the  other  window,  commanding  the  road 
to  the  tunnel,  and  in  the  early  light  saw  troops  belching 
forth  like  shot  from  the  mouth  of  a  cannon.  They  scattered 
over  the  plain;  they  swarmed;  they  seemed  indeed  to  be 
a  harvest  of  dragons'  teeth. 

And  the  Queen,  Karmen  Mara,  the  woman  he  loved? 

Blind  fury  caught  him  like  a  beast  at  the  throat.  He 
caught  up  his  pistol  and  would  have  shot  the  negro  like  a  rat 
then,  but  as  he  turned  from  the  window  to  do  this,  found 
himself  alone.  The  man  had  gone. 

He  tore  open  his  bedroom  door,  calling:  "Jeff." 

The  man  had  probably  made  his  way  out  of  the  window 
through  which  the  Queen  had  disappeared.  Crossdale  put 
his  pistol  back  in  his  pocket.  Fly!  Where  to?  Where 
could  he  go  like  this?  What  would  he  fly  to? 

After  all,  what  had  he  to  fear?  He  was  an  American 
citizen.  He  had  meddled  in  no  political  intrigue;  he  was 
not  seditious;  he  had  no  politics.  Meddled!  He  had  done 
something  far  more  vital  than  this — he  had  been  the  lover 
of  the  Queen. 

He  was  no  longer  simply  a  private  person  of  absolutely  no 
interest.  He  had  played  a  role,  and  the  man  to  whom  this 
role  would  be  a  matter  of  importance  was  the  leader  of  the 
revolutionary  movement,  Prince  John  himself,  the  man  who, 
he  had  so  often  been  told,  loved  the  Queen  of  Karmania. 


332  THE    QUEEN    OF    K  ARMANI  A 

He  looked  about  the  little  tower  room — at  the  table,  with 
its  marvellous  cloth,  the  glasses,  the  plates — spectacular  in 
the  pale  light  of  dawn. 

Under  the  table  on  the  floor  a  tiny  pocket  handkerchief 
lay,  like  a  filmy  web.  He  caught  it  up — it  smelt  of  jasmine. 
He  thrust  it  in  his  pocket;  it  was  something  of  her  for 
him  to  take  away. 

He  had  just  done  this  when  the  door  burst  open  and  two 
soldiers,  in  command  of  Captain  Zito,  came  into  the  room. 
Zito  saluted  him,  with  a  curious  smile  of  triumph. 

"Excellency,"  he  said,  "I  have  come.  You  see,  I  have  not 
forgotten.  I  have  my  friends  with  me.  You  will  follow  us." 

Crossdale  determined  then  and  there  that  he  would  not 
follow  this  man,  not  if  he  had  to  go  down  to  the  grave  with 
murder  on  his  soul.  He  cast  his  eyes  once  more  about  the 
room.  His  bedroom  door  was  open. 

But  what  was  the  use  of  flying  from  them?  He  leaned 
on  the  table,  with  his  hands  back  of  him,  his  feet  crossed. 

"Follow  you?     To  where,  and  by  whose  orders?" 

Zito,  without  replying  directly,  nodded.  "Do  you  hear 
them,  Excellency?" 

Crossdale  heard  them.  It  would  have  been  difficult  not 
to.  The  air  without  was  vibrating  with  the  huzzas  and  the 
cries  and  that  impressive  sound  of  men  half  mad,  cheering 
an  idea. 

"The  Prince  is  without,"  Zito  announced  with  triumph. 
"Las  Preysidentanos  is  without,  marching  to  the  capital.  The 
welcome  there  will  be  royal  for  him." 

"God!"  Crossdale  ejaculated  between  his  teeth,  thinking 
of  her. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  333 

"I  asked  His  Excellency  for  this  great  honor,"  the  Kar- 
manian  continued,  "the  reward  of  taking  the  American 
engineer  prisoner.  I  have  never  forgotten  you,  and  our 
blood  sign." 

Crossdale  played  for  time.  "I  see  you  were  at  the  right 
table,  Zito — you  have  the  winning  cards." 

The  man  nodded  back  to  the  little  window  behind  him. 
"They  have  won,  the  great  Republicans!" 

It  made  Crossdale  sick  to  think  of  shooting  this  man 
without  warning,  but  he  was  not  going  to  be  taken  like  a  rat 
in  a  trap  without  a  fight.  Behind  him  his  hand  was  over  his 
pistol  in  his  hip  pocket. 

"It  was  a  great,  great  sight,"  said  the  Karmanian,  "at  the 
lodge,  Las  Restaurus,  the  place  where  all  those  aristocrats 
killed  the  defenceless*  beasts,"  he  chortled  in  his  throat. 
"Excellency,  Lord,  I  was  with  the  surrounding  party." 

("Are  they  all  dead?"  Crossdale  wondered.  "What  has 
happened  to  them?") 

But  he  did  not  ask.  He  was  holding  the  little  rotund 
figure  of  the  Karmanian  in  his  vision;  nothing  that  Zito  did 
escaped  him.  The  man  was  very,  very  drunk ;  twice  he  took 
a  backward  step  and  his  men  sustained  him. 

"We  have  been  following  you,  Excellency,  Lord,  all  these 
months.  At  Jehanospelz  the  President  has  laughed  at  your 
adventures  and  your  victories.  But  they  will  have  an  end, 
they  will  have  an  end,  and  tonight  is  the  end!"  He  made 
a  step  toward  Crossdale,  with  a  hiccough.  "Now,"  he 
managed  to  get  out,  "it  is  the  turn  of  the  President  of  the 
New  Republic  with  the  Queen!" 

•'Beast!"  ejaculated  the  American,  and  as  the  man,  not 


334  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

too  drunk  to  see  his  movement  of  hand,  drew  his  own  gun, 
Crossdale  shot  him  through  the  heart.  Zito  fell  as  he  stood. 

Then  the  two  soldiers  loomed  up  a  hundred  feet  high  to 
Stephen.  As  Zito  fell  he  turned  his  gun  on  them.  The 
bigger  fellow,  lurching  forward,  struck  him  with  the  butt  of 
his  little  gun,  but  Crossdale  caught  only  half  the  blow,  and 
smashed  the  gun  out  of  the  man's  hand,  and  it  fell  crashing 
against  the  wall.  But  he  had  disarmed  the  American,  who 
felt  himself  grappling  with  the  man  body  to  body. 

Crossdale  was  a  born  fighter,  and  the  half-drunken  Kar- 
manian,  in  spite  of  the  American's  left  hand  with  its  slight 
wound,  was  no  match  for  him.  He  thought  that  at  any 
moment  the  other  man -would  be  upon  him,  but  the  soldier 
had  taken  to  his  heels  and  clattered  down  the  stone  stairs. 

As  Crossdale  grappled  with  the  fellow,  he  felt  the  bandage 
on  his  hand  slip  and  the  blood  from  his  hurt  began  to  flow. 
It  maddened  him,  and  feeling  the  man's  knife  in  his  belt,  he 
was  able  to  draw  it  violently  from  its  sheath.  He  struck 
the  man  between  the  ribs,  and  he  fell,  his  blood  spurting 
over  Zito;  face  down  he  fell  upon  his  captain. 

Crossdale  caught  up  one  of  the  napkins  from  the  table 
of  their  feast,  wound  it  round  and  round  his  hand,  knotting 
it  with  his  teeth,  and  flung  himself  out  of  the  room,  where  he 
had  laid  the  plans  to  build  a  railroad  and  held  a  Queen  in 
his  arms.  He  climbed  out  of  the  window  on  to  the  little 
ivy-covered  staircase  and  made  his  way  down,  as  the  Queen 
and  Jefferson  Robinson  had  done. 

What  possible  means  was  there  for  him  now  to  escape? 
He  was  a  triply-marked  man,  with  two  deaths  for  his  record 
and  the  enmity  and  deadly  hatred  of  the  man  in  power. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

AMMETARO 

At  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  he  fell  into  the  arms  of  Rob- 
inson, and  big  as  Crossdale  was,  and  muscular,  he  was  at  a 
disadvantage  in  the  dark,  surprised  by  the  suddenness  of 
the  grip.  The  negro's  voice,  close  to  his  ear,  whispered: 

"Fo*  de  lub  ob  Gawd,  Boss,  de're  all  roun'  us,  but  ah  kin 
git  yo'  free,  swear  to  Gawd  ah  kin,  if  yo'll  strip  and  put  on 
dis  hyar  uniform." 

Infusing  his  words  with  all  the  authority  of  which  he  was 
master,  the  American  commanded  him  between  his  teeth: 
"Damn  you,  let  me  free!" 

Centuries  of  unquestioning  obedience  were  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  African,  whose  forbears  were  slaves,  and  as  the 
negro's  arms  released  him,  Crossdale  drew  a  long  breath  and 
turned  on  him  like  a  maddened  beast.  He  caught  the  fel- 
low by  the  throat  and  shook  him  as  though  he  were  a  rat; 
he  struck  him  once  or  twice  violently  and  threw  him  from 
him,  so  that  Jeff  toppled  over  like  a  bag  of  coffee  into  the 
ivy  vines,  crashing  as  he  fell.  He  would  have  shot  the  man 
then,  but  he  did  not  wish  to  draw  attention  to  his  hiding 
place  by  a  shot. 

He  had  hardly  thrown  the  man  from  him,  cursing  him  for 
a  treacherous  skunk,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  approach- 
ing voices.  Half  a  dozen  men  rode  up,  commanded  by  an 
officer  in  the  regimentals  of  Sarvanarof .  The  man  in  charge 


336  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

threw  himself  off  his  horse,  glancing  from  the  American, 
breathless,  hatless,  dishevelled,  to  the  negro,  who  was  not 
unconscious,  pulling  himself  up  by  the  vines.  The  Kar- 
manian  said  in  English: 

"Mr.  Crossdale,  of  the  Royal  State  Railway,  I  believe? 
You  are  my  prisoner,  sir.  Go,"  he  ordered  two  of  his  men, 
"and  help  that  man  over  there  to  get  on  his  feet."  To  Jeff 
Robinson  he  nodded:  "You  have  done  well,  my  man,  excel- 
lently, excellently!  The  President  will  reward  you;  you 
shall  have  every  protection.  The  guardians  of  the  new 
Republic  have  orders  to  arrest  you,  Mr.  Crossdale,  wherever 
you  may  be  found.  Will  you  hand  over  your  arms?" 

"Don't,"  said  Stephen  Crossdale,  "let  me  see  that  negro 
servant  of  mine  again!  I  warn  you  that  I  will  shoot  him  on 
sight  if  I  ever  get  this  into  my  hand  again."  He  gave  over 
his  gun.  "I  didn't  know  I  was  of  so  much  importance  in 
Karmania!  It  sounds  as  though  I  had  been  really  doing 
something,  instead  of  opening  the  way  for  you  to  come 
through." 

They  did  him  the  honor  of  incarcerating  him  in  the  bell 
tower,  in  the  beautiful  room  set  apart  for  distinguished 
prisoners,  and  he  believed  that  somewhere  above  him  Kar- 
men  Mara  was  herself  a  prisoner.  From  this  turret  the 
royal  flag  had  fluttered  down,  and  in  its  place  the  banner  of 
the  new  Republic  played  with  the  winds. 

Except  to  fetch  food  and  drink,  no  one  had  been  near 
him  since  his  imprisonment.  There  was  an  excellent  bed,  a 
writing  table  with  every  furnishing  for  correspondence; 
there  were  a  few  books,  a  comfortable  sofa,  a  wooden  floor, 
and  a  tiny  window,  which  Crossdale  could  reach  by  stand- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  337 

ing  on  a  chair;  it  gave  the  round  room  the  look  of  a  cell. 
The  door,  heavily  curtained  on  the  inside,  was  of  iron  and 
bolted. 

He  was  dulled.  For  some  hours  he  had  slept,  his  head  on 
his  arms,  dressed  as  he  was.  But  the  morning  brought  him 
no  hope,  or  even  interest  in  his  own  fate.  He  could  only 
think  of  Karmen  Mara. 

He  did  not  believe  that  even  these  barbarians  would 
execute  an  American  citizen  out  of  hand;  and  the  legation 
at  Bukarest  would  make  inquiries  for  him.  He  had  small 
concern  for  his  own  safety,  in  any  case,  although  he  had  an 
idea  that  John  Sarvanarof  would  do  what  he  wanted  with 
no  matter  whom;  there  would  be  nothing  in  the  world  easier 
than  to  put  him  out  of  the  way  quietly.  They  could  inform 
the  United  States  that  he  had  been  blown  up  by  a  bomb, 
that  he  had  perished  in  the  debris  of  some  building  that 
had  been  destroyed  in  the  upheaval  of  the  country.  There 
would  be  a  dozen  reasons  which  could  be  given  at  such  a 
time  as  this,  the  unmaking  and  remaking  of  a  state.  Ger- 
many had  not  declared  war  upon  Karmania  because  of  the 
murder  of  Baumgarten,  and  in  what  way  was  he  better 
than  his  predecessor? 

But  could  he  have  got  away  scot  free  he  would  not 
have  done  so  without  knowing  the  fate  of  the  Queen,  how  he 
could  see  her  again?  And  where?  Would  he  ever  see  her 
again?  He  climbed  often  to  the  little  window  which  gave 
him  outlook  on  the  brilliant  heavens.  She,  too,  looked  at 
those  stars  from  her  window,  as  he  did. 

It  gave  him  no  special  comfort  to  remember  that  Sar- 
vanarof had  been  confined  here  and  escaped  and  climbed 


338  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

high  afterward,  and  that  Prince  Sarvan  had  been  confined 
here  and  gone  free.  He  was  sure  that  no  other  American 
citizen  had  been  a  political  prisoner  in  this  tower. 

They  had  scores  against  him  in  Karmania,  too.  They 
could  convict  him;  if  they  shot  him  before  sunrise  they 
would  have  reason.  He  had  the  death  of  two  Karmanians 
to  his  account.  And  now  that  Sarvanarof  knew  of  his  rela- 
tions with  the  Queen  his  state  was  bad. 

No  sign  came  to  him  that  the  Queen  knew  of  his  imprison- 
ment or  that  she  ever  thought  of  him  again.  He  could  ask 
no  questions;  there  was  no  one  with  whom  he  could  speak — 
his  food  and  drink  were  put  in  through  a  revolving 
window.  He  saw  no  face  and  heard  no  voice  until  at  last 
the  door  grated,  unlocked,  clanged  to  again,  and  Captain 
Stanislas  Korvan  rushed  in,  threw  his  arms  about  his  friend 
and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks. 

Crossdale  found  himself  hanging  on  to  the  Karmanian's 
hand  as  though  it  were  a  life  rope,  wringing  it,  looking  at 
him  as  though  he  were  the  whole  of  Karmania,  in  a  smart 
service  uniform  of  Prince  John's  creation,  cinder-gray  with 
dark  red  reliefs. 

"Courage,  courage,  Stephanos!  Don't  get  downhearted 
— we'll  pull  you  out  of  this,  old  man,  sure  as  fate!  How  are 
you?"  He  looked  at  his  friend  with  affectionate  interest. 

"I  know  it's  not  too  uncomfortable  here  as  far  as  a  prison 
goes.  I  have  tested  it — I've  slept  on  that  bed  and  eaten  off 
that  revolving  bookshelf.  God,  I  know  all  you're  going 
through!  I  had  my  share  before  they  sent  me  to  Pratz- 
Zenoe,  and  I  had  a  woman  to  care  about,  just  as  you  have." 
Crossdale  wrung  his  hand. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  339 

"Now  I  can  only  stop  a  second,"  said  Korvan.  "It  is  bad 
for  us  both  if  I  linger,  but  I  want  you  to  buck  up,  take 
heart!" 

The  American,  gripping  Korvan's  arm  hard,  asked:  "And 
the  Queen?"  by  his  tone  of  voice  claiming  every  bit  of 
knowledge  that  the  Karmanian  had  to  impart.  "Karmen 
Mara?" 

"Oh,  she's  all  right,  old  man!  Her  imprisonment  is  only 
a  farce,  only  a  formality.  Don't  worry  about  her.  Every 
hair  of  her  head,  you  know,  is  sacred."  Korvan  saw  him 
wince.  "It  is  you  I  am  thinking  about,"  he  continued.  "I 
have  not  been  able  to  advance  your  cause  one  step  with  the 
President.  He  is  more  autocratic  than  a  Tsar." 

"I  dare  say."  Crossdale  smiled  bitterly.  "I  can't  blame 
him  for  hating  me." 

Korvan  shook  his  head.  "Oh,  he  hates  you,  Stephen! 
And  when  he  saw  your  study  in  the  little  tower — the  table, 
the  feast — when  he  saw  that,  and  the  bodies  on  the  floor  of 
Zito  and  the  soldier — why  I  swear  we  thought  he  would 
have  apoplexy.  I  was  with  him.  It  took  two  of  us  to  hold 
him  down."  Crossdale  listened.  Things  were  looking 
pretty  tight  for  him;  there  was  no  doubt  about  it. 

"I  was  there  when  they  brought  him  the  things  out  of 
your  pocket.  Nothing  compromising  politically,  old  man, 
but  when  he  saw  that  little  handkerchief  with  the  Queen's 
monogram,  I  thought  the  blood  would  burst  from  his 
temples."  He  glanced  at  the  other's  locked  hands,  at  his 
set  lips,  and  changed  the  conversation.  "You  will  think  I 
am  a  duffer  to  talk  like  this,  old  top,  but  I  wouldn't  do  it 
if  I  were  not  sure  down  to  my  boots  that  we'll  get  you  off." 


340  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

A  sceptical  smile  touched  the  American's  lips. 

"You  have  got  a  lot  of  expensive  faith,  Korvan,"  he  said. 
"After  what  you  have  just  said,  I  guess  my  goose  is  cooked. 
What  do  you  think  my  fate  hangs  on,  anyhow,  that  you 
seem  so  sure?" 

Harking  back  to  the  old  reverence,  speaking  of  her  in  a 
tone  both  affectionate  and  reverential,  Stanislas  Korvan  said: 
"The  Queen.  She  is  with  the  President  now,  at  this  moment." 

Crossdale  caught  fire  from  his  companion's  words,  but 
not  in  the  way  that  Korvan  meant  he  should.  She  was  with 
John  Sarvanarof!  To  what  end?  What  power  had  he  over 
Karmen  Mara's  will?  The  idea  that  this  woman,  who  had 
given  him  her  love,  could  be  now  in  the  presence  of  his 
enemy  and  of  the  man  who  adored  her,  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  bear.  Helpless,  at  the  mercy  of  Sarvanarof 's 
caprice  or  hate,  he  was  powerless  against  the  moment. 

Still,  his  mind  worked  clearly  and  he  knew  what  he 
wanted  to  find  out,  and  he  asked:  "Do  you  know  what  the 
President  intends  to  do?  I  mean  to  say,  do  you  know  what 
his  plans  are  for  the  Queen  of  Karmania?" 

As  he  spoke  her  name  it  seemed  that  his  companion  must 
see  his  emotion.  He  saw  Korvan  hesitate. 

"Go  on,  Korvan.  I  can  bear  it  whatever  it  is — I  can  bear 
anything  but  not  knowing.  Go  on." 

"The  President  has  two  propositions  to  place  before  Her 
Majesty  this  afternoon.  Indeed,  as  we  are  talking  here  now, 
she  has  doubtless  made  her  choice." 

"Let's  have  it — what  choice  does  he  give  her?" 

"To  exile  her  to  England,  with  a  suitable  income  for  the 
rest  of  her  life — " 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  *  341 

"And  the  other?" 

"To  remain  in  Karmania  and  guide  the  ship  of  the  repub- 
lic with  her  husband." 

The  American  stepped  back.      "Ah,  my  God!" 

Korvan  saw  him  cover  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  he 
muttered,  leaning  against  the  table:  "Go,  will  you,  and  let 
me  fight  this  out  alone?" 

"I  must  go,"  said  Korvan,  wringing  his  hand.  "I  have 
stayed  too  long  as  it  is.  By  Jove!  I  hate  to  leave  you 
alone  like  this." 

"You  can,"  said  the  other,  "quite  safely.  Go — go — and 
remember  that  she  has  a  choice." 

For  twenty-four  hours  on  end  he  walked  to  and  fro  in 
his  little  cell,  dreaming,  musing,  eating  his  heart  out,  yearn- 
ing up  to  her  through  the  intervening  space.  If  thought  and 
feeling  could  have  carried  him  through  the  material  barriers 
he  would  have  been  at  her  side.  His  brain  and  heart  and 
senses  were  full  of  her. 

Without  he  could  hear  the  cries  and  shouts  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  castle,  "savas,"  acclamations,  the  constant  rep- 
etition of  the  name  Jehanos,  snatches  of  her  music  set  to 
revolutionary  words;  insults,  cries,  demands.  He  could 
even  fancy  that  he  heard  them  ask  that  she  be  delivered  up 
to  them. 

"Is  this  the  twentieth  century?"  he  asked  himself.  "No, 
not  on  your  life!  Back,  way  back — " 

During  the  night  he  was  awakenedjjy  a  soft  touch  against 
his  hand.  He  sprang  up  and  saw  standing  by  his  side 
Griffen,  the  old  wolfhound.  He  seized  the  dog  round  the 
neck,  buried  his  face  in  his  thick  coat,  and  as  he  did  so  and 


342  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  dog's  collar  touched  his  cheek,  he  wondered.  He  wound 
his  hands  in  the  collar  and  found  a  slip  of  paper  fastened 
there. 

He  read  out  by  his  candle  just  one  word,  again  one  of 
those  symbolic  and  double  meaning  words  so  prevalent  in 
Karmania:  Ammetaro,  meaning  "until  the  end"  and  also  the 
root  of  the  verb  "to  love." 

He  could  not  believe  that  this  message  had  been  sent  to 
him  without  some  idea  that  a  message  would  be  returned. 
He  wrote  on  a  sn.all  slip  of  paper,  in  English,  the  word: 
"Come,"  and  twisted  it  back  in  the  collar  of  the  dog,  con- 
cealing it  in  the  wolfhound's  thick,  rough  hair. 

Even  as  he  caressed  the  beast,  the  door  opened,  there 
was  a  low  whistle;  Griffen  responded,  bounded  out,  and  the 
prisoner  was  alone. 

A  thousand  times  he  weighed  the  chances  of  the  Queen's 
acceptance  of  exile  to  England.  What  would  be  easier  than 
to  join  her  there?  And  then  he  added  to  himself:  "Sar- 
vanarof  will  never  let  me  go!" 

In  the  night  watch  and  through  the  dark  hours  came  the 
memories  of  their  meeting  in  his  tower,  the  feast,  the  love, 
all  the  adorable  wonder  of  her,  and  even  as  he  thrilled  to  it 
came  with  gruesome  and  sardonic  cruelty  the  vision  of  the 
dead  men  on  the  floor.  And  as  he  mused  and  suffered,  from 
without  came  the  voices  of  the  soldiers  singing  her  most 
popular  song: 

"What  shall  be  given 

To  him  who  comes  riding — " 

travestied,    disfigured,    ribald    and    foul.     Oh,    the    poor 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  343 

stranger!  They  had  bruised  and  beaten  him  well  in  return 
for  having  opened  the  ways  of  Karmania  to  the  sea.  He 
could  not  but  see  the  humor  and  the  satire  that  it  was.  He 
had  opened  the  tunnel  in  order  that  they  might  pass 
through,  that  this  scum  might  pour  itself  into  her  Kingdom 
more  freely! 

He  was  sitting  at  his  table,  with  his  arms  thrown  across 
it  and  his  head  resting  upon  his  arm  when  a  guard  came  into 
the  room,  accompanied  by  four  or  five  soldiers.  "Are  you 
ready,  Mr.  Crossdale?" 

Stephen  started  up,  stood,  pale  and  with  high  beating 
heart,  looking  at  the  Karmanian,  whom  he  had  never  seen 
before.  He  was  a  young  man,  ardent  in  his  patriotism,  with 
a  new  faith,  and  he  could  not  conceal  his  pride  and  his 
satisfaction  at  being  detailed  to  parley  with  this  important 
prisoner. 

"Are  you  ready?" 

Stephen  looked  at  him.  "Ready  for  what?"  and  added 
to  himself,  "For  death?" 

"To  leave  Karmania,  to  leave  the  kingdom  at  once." 

Stephen  drew  a  long  breath.  There  was  the  wind  of 
liberty  in  it,  the  breath  of  freedom,  the  outer  way  again,  the 
home  trail,  the  old  life,  security— too  good  to  be  true!  Too 
wonderful  to  be  possible! 

And  then — free  to  go — at  what  price?  And  free  to  go — 
where?  From  where  she  was. 

"To  leave  the  country?    By  whose  order?" 

The  young  man  handed  him  a  dazzling  looking  document, 
written  over  and  hung  with  seals.  If  the  moment  had  not 


344  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

been  so  thrilling  to  him  and  so  vital,  the  picturesqueness  of 
the  paper  would  have  amused  him. 

"Read,"  said  the  young  officer,  "it  is  incumbent  that  you 
read." 

"You  are  herewith  ordered  to  conduct  Mr.  Stephen  Cross- 
dale  to  the  frontiers  of  the  Republic  of  Karmania.  You 
are  to  see  that  he  is  safely  transported  to  Roumania  within 
four  days,  by  the  way  of  Cye  and  Tamaresk.  If  he  makes 
any  attempt  whatsoever  to  escape,  or  to  return  to  the 
Republic,  he  is  to  be  shot. 

"(Signed)  John  Sarvanarof,  First  President 
of  the  New  Republic  of  Karmania. 

"(Signed)  Karmen  Mara  Basilof,  ex-Queen 
of  Karmania." 

There  was  her  handwriting  and  her  signature.  This  was 
the  first  word  from  her  until  the  night  before,  on  a  slip  of 
paper,  he  had  seen  her  writing  in  the  most  sacred  word  in 
the  Karmanian  language. 

Gazing  at  the  paper  which  he  held,  Crossdale  was  asking 
himself  hotly,  with  a  poignant  anguish:  "What  has  she 
accepted — which  of  the  propositions?  What  has  she  done?" 

Exile — was  that  what  she  had  chosen?  Had  she  suc- 
ceeded in  banishing  him  in  order  that  they  should  meet? 
And  hope  rose  in  his  heart,  and  with  a  modicum  of  cheer 
he  looked  into  the  young  man's  face  and  tried  to  smile.  But 
the  grave  and  important  young  officer  did  not  relax  his 
features. 

"In  Cye  you  will  be  given  an  hour  in  your  own  quarters  in 
which  to  bathe  and  dress  and  to  pack  your  personal  belong- 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  345 

ings.  We  shall  take  them  out  with  us.  Here,  meanwhile, 
is  a  raincoat  and  a  cap." 

For  Crossdale  was  bareheaded  and  in  the  same  clothes  in 
which  he  had  left  Las  Restaurus  after  the  banquet,  with  the 
cabinet  and  the  Prime  Minister. 

"General  Sarvan  has  sent  you  these,"  said  the  young  man. 
"He  thought  you  might  need  them." 

"Take  them  away,"  said  Crossdale  curtly.  "I  go  as  I 
came." 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

"l  WILL   GIVE   HIM   THAT  WHICH   I   HAVE 
KEPT    FOR    HIM" 

"San  Francisco  on  the  telephone  for  Mr.  Storm." 

The  chap  who  made  this  announcement  in  no  sense  sug- 
gested Jeff  Robinson.  He  was  a  young  man  of  the  bell-boy 
type,  employed  at  odd  jobs,  and  during  the  three-quarters 
of  the  day  which  he  apportioned  to  himself  he  studied 
mechanics  in  the  garage.  He  suggested  no  past  to  his 
employer;  he  was  connected  with  no  romantic  adventures, 
and  would  never  set  the  world  on  fire  or  betray  his  master. 
Caleb  Storm,  who  had  come  out  unexpectedly  to  the  ranch 
to  pass  a  week-end  with  Crossdale,  went  in  to  answer  a  long 
distance  call. 

Crossdale  was  supremely  indifferent  to  everything  on  the 
Western  Continent.  Since  his  return  to  California  nothing 
had  been  able  to  rouse  in  him  the  slightest  interest.  His 
affairs  were  booming;  hard  times  did  not  touch  him.  But  he 
would  rather  have  been  poor  and  starting  out  again  to  fight 
his  way;  this  perhaps  would  have  given  him  a  fresh  impulse 
in  life. 

He  had  come  directly  west  from  Marseilles  and  felt  as 
though  he  had  been  shot  in  one  volley  from  Karmania  to 
the  Pacific  coast.  Between  his  leaving  the  prison  turret  and 
his  coming  home  the  interval  was  vague  to  him.  He  had 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  347 

hung  on  in  Bukarest  as  long  as  he  dared  in  the  vain  hope  of 
receiving  some  message  from  the  Queen;  but  finally  he  was 
obliged  to  take  his  passports,  for  the  United  States  Consulate 
made  him  understand  that  he  was  not  persona  grata  in  Cen- 
tral Europe.  Finally  he  drifted  off  up  the  Danube  toward 
the  civilization  for  which  Jeff  Robinson  had  pined;  the 
word  would  always  be  connected  with  the  negro. 

Since  he  had  seen  him  slip  away  at  the  bottom  of  the 
steps  of  the  brown  tower,  he  had  believed  every  evil  of  him. 
He  could  have  strangled  the  man  with  his  own  hands  gladly, 
and  he  mentally  placed  him  in  every  kind  of  low,  treacher- 
ous position,  and  believed  him  to  be  Sarvanarof's  paid  crea- 
ture. But  although  the  Queen  of  Karmania  had  no  means  of 
sending  him  a  message,  the  night  before  he  left  Bukarest 
a  note  was  thrust  under  his  door.  It  was  a  letter  from  Jeff: 

"Gawd  Almighty,  ain'  Ah  glayde  yo'  pulled  out  safe,  Boss! 
Keep  a  stiff  back,  Mister  Crossdale,  suh.  Et's  gwine  to  be 
alright.  Ah  ain'  gwine  to  lebe  dis  hyar  joint  twill  Ah  gits 
de  old  hawg's  bristles.  Trus'  me,  Boss.  Ah  furgive  yo'  fo' 
de  hit  'n  de  cuss-wodes — Ah  don'  blame  yo',  but  trus'  ol' 
Jeff.  By-by." 

He  had  never  told  Storm  a  word  about  his  Great  Adven- 
ture. The  engineering  job  for  which  he  had  gone  to  Kar- 
mania was  successfully  completed;  he  returned.  And  that 
was  all  the  Transportation  Company  had  to  dc  with  it. 
Indeed,  had  he  wanted  to  chronicle  his  year  and  rehearse 
the  incidents,  they  would  not  have  defined  themselves.  Illu- 
sive, maddening,  capricious  as  the  shadow  of  a  dream,  they 
eluded  him  cruelly. 

Old  Storm  had  never  forgiven  his  partner  for  not  locating 


348  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

the  Karmanian  oil  wells,  and  he  was  so  disgruntled  about  it 
that  this  disappointment  in  itself  kept  him  from  referring  to 
Karmania. 

"It  just  gets  me,  Steve,  to  think  you  missed  that  deal — 
you  with  your  foot  in  the  wells,  as  one  might  say!  Can't 
get  over  it!  A  live  wire  like  you!  What  the  devil  were  you 
doing,  man?" 

Crossdale  never  told  him.  Storm,  practical  business  man, 
with  no  interests  outside  the  United  States,  excepting  those 
which  he  could  turn  into  money,  was  bent  on  making  as 
many  fortunes  as  he  could  in  a  lifetime.  For  nothing  on 
earth  would  Crossdale  have  told  his  friend  of  his  strange, 
maddening,  fascinating  year.  He  could  not  hear  himself 
saying:  "When  I  was  in  Karmania  I  fell  in  love  with  the 
Queen! "  He  had  no  desire  to  pose  as  a  film  star  to  his  com- 
mon-sense friend. 

Indeed,  he  asked  himself  a  dozen  times  if  he  had  not 
dreamed  it  all.  Even  in  his  beautiful  state,  in  his  charming 
home,  he  could  not  frame  his  memories  of  Karmania — the 
dark-eyed,  red-lipped  Queen;  the  brilliant  rooms  of  Las 
Restaurus;  the  mysterious  brown  tower.  He  could  not 
hang  them  on  his  walls  with  photographs  of  the  Yosemite 
Valley  and  his  polo  ponies.  Had  he  not  perhaps  been  seri- 
ously ill  in  Bukarest  without  knowing  it?  Was  not  the  whole 
thing  the  phantasmagoria  of  a  fevered  dream? 

So  Karmania  blurred  before  his  vision.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  California  to  recall  it.  Karmania  shares  were  not 
quoted  on  the  San  Francisco  Stock  Exchange,  nor  her  latest 
news  cabled  to  the  daily  papers.  Many  interests  absorbed 
the  firm  in  which  Crossdale  was  a  silent  partner.  Their 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  349 

London  house  had  received  full  payment  for  all  the  work 
on  the  Karmanian  State  Railroad.  Karmanian  affairs  were 
closed  as  far  as  they  were  concerned.  But  the  oil  wells  were 
a  constant  source  of  irritation  to  Storm,  and  he  could  not 
forgive  the  failure  of  his  friend  to  locate  them. 

The  first  thing  that  Crossdale  did  when  he  returned  home 
was  to  get  out  her  little  photograph  to  dream  over  every  line 
of  it,  to  compare  the  features  in  the  picture  with  Karmen 
Mara  as  he  knew  her.  And  he  stood  the  little  picture  up 
again  on  his  bureau,  as  he  had  used  to  have  it  near  him  in 
his  days  at  Yale.  And  she  looked  at  him  with  her  sweet 
grave  eyes. 

"Little  girl,"  he  said  to  the  picture,  "twice  a  ruler  and 
only  once  a  woman,  if  I  only  could  have  run  away  with  you 
from  school!" 

And  the  sense  of  her  then,  and  the  thrill  and  passion  of 
their  single  meeting,  snatched  by  them  from  the  book  of 
Fate,  swayed  him  until  his  image  of  her  was  so  poignant 
that  this  past  became  real  and  everything  else  a  vision. 

Storm  had  studied  his  friend  more  sensitively  than  Cross- 
dale  knew,  and  he  was  determined  when  the  right  moment 
came  to  get  his  confidence.  Stephen  heard  the  receiver 
banged  up;  Storm's  voice  ceased  and  he  came  hurrying  out 
on  the  porch,  beaming,  bursting  with  excitement,  his  eyes 
bright  with  the  dazzle  that  only  money  had  the  power  to 
create  in  him.  He  held  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand.  He 
cried  out: 

"Gosh,  Steve,  you're  a  wonder!  You're  a  great  old  secret- 
keeper!  To  think  of  getting  this  over  the  telephone!" 

He  waved  the  slip  of  paper,  and  his  friend  waited  with 


350  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

tepid  interest.  Contracts  and  projects  for  further  riches 
interested  him  not  at  all. 

"Good  work,  Bey,  great!  You're  a  fine  little  prospector, 
and  I  hope  to  God  you'll  let  some  of  this  interest  get  under 
your  skin." 

"What  the  hell's  the  matter  with  you?"  growled  the  Cali- 
fornian. 

Storm  was  grinning  at  him,  his  keen  eyes  on  him  with 
satisfied  amusement.  "Boy,"  he  said,  "it's  a  pretty  good 
one,  but  I've  run  you  to  earth.  Why  the  deuce  didn't  you 
tell  me  what  you  were  doing  in  Karmania?" 

At  this  word  the  red  color  that  ran  under  Crossdale's 
brown  cheek  showed  that  something  at  last  had  roused  him, 
but  Storm  continued:  "Come,  Steve,  unload!  We're  all 
friends  in  the  Transportation  Company — what  was  the 
point  of  keeping  this  so  dark?  You  let  me  curse  you  out 
for  your  punk  performance  in  Karmania  regarding  the  locat- 
ing of  the  wells — " 

Now  Crossdale  interrupted  wearily:  "Oh,  that's  the  dope, 
is  it — those  confounded  old  wells!" 

Storm  unfurled  the  slip  which  he  had  written  out  over  the 
telephone.  "That's  why  you  left  that  negro  behind!  First 
time  in  my  life  I  ever  heard  of  a  North  American  negro 
developing  diplomatic  qualities!  But  you're  the  stuff, 
Steve — I'll  let  you  go  round  the  world  for  the  Western 
Transportation  Company  any  time!" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you've  heard  from  Jeff  Robinson?" 

"Oh,  come,"  said  Storm,  "don't  be  a  fool.  You  know  it  all 
better  than  I  do.;'  He  handed  the  slip  which  he  had  written 
out  to  Crossdale. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  351 

"The  Western  Transportation  and  Karmanian  Oil  Com- 
pany was  formed  today  in  London  at  your  offices.  Details 
following  by  mail.  Signed  Stanislas  Korvan  and  Jefferson 
Robinson." 

Crossdale  read  it  and  stared  blankly  into  the  eyes  of  his 
partner,  who  was  saying  to  him  sharply:  "Who  is  Korvan? 
Who  is  Stanislas  Korvan?  Is  he  one  of  the  agents,  too? 
Jefferson  Robinson  is  the  negro,  isn't  he?" 

And  Crossdale  said  shortly:  "Yes." 

"It's  just  two  years  ago,"  said  the  excited  Storm,  "that  I 
came  out  here  to  ask  you  to  go  to  Karmania — now  we'll 
celebrate  the  anniversary.  Buck  up,  for  God's  sake,  Steve — 
don't  look  like  a  ghost  about  it.  It  simply  means  that  we  must 
have  purchased  about  a  thousand  acres  of  land — that's 
what  I  doped  out  to  you — from  the  Kingdom  of  Karmania, 
or  else  we  own  it  with  a  joint  company  in  the  Kingdom." 

Crossdale,  who  still  looked  at  the  pencilled  words  on  the 
paper  as  though  they  linked  him  vitally  with  the  past,  said 
in  a  superior  manner:  "Kingdom  of  Karmania?  It  isn't 
a  kingdom — it's  a  republic." 

A  thrill  went  through  him  as  he  said  these  words.  A 
republic,  with  John  Sarvanarof  for  President  and  with  the 
Queen  of  Karmania  for  his  wife!  An  expression  of  pain 
passed  over  his  face;  his  lips  twitched.  He  heard  Storm  say: 
"Republic  nothing,  Steve!  You  live  out  here  like  a  savage." 
He  laughed.  "You  don't  follow  the  course  of  events,  do 
you?  Since  the  last  revolution  it  is  a  monarchy.  Here — " 
he  took  a  folded  newspaper  out  of  the  pocket  of  his  sack 
coat.  "I  brought  this  out— thought  it  might  interest  you. 
I  forgot  to  show  you  before." 


352 


Storm  found  fhe  paragraph  and  read  it,  above  his  eye- 
glasses. Crossdale  did  not  listen  as  he  read  him  the  little 
resume  of  Karmania's  history.  He  had  heard  it  on  the  Dan- 
ube boat  from  the  lips  of  John  Sarvanarof,  as  he  had  told 
him  so  charmingly  of  the  land  he  loved.  The  little  legend 
of  the  ancient  republic  fell  on  unheeding  ears,  but  to  the 
next  he  listened  with  his  soul. 

"At  last  some  fugitive  rumors  have  penetrated  to  the  West 
regarding  the  fortunes  of  the  passionate  and  ardent  inhabi- 
tants of  Karmania.  Their  country  is  in  constant  revolt  and 
the  course  of  events  changes  so  rapidly  that  it  is  hard  to 
know  just  what  is  going  on.  But  it  is  known  now  that 
shortly  after  Sarvanarof's  proclaiming  himself  President  of 
the  New  Republic  of  Karmania  he  was  murdered  by  the 
Royalist  Party  and  Prince  Sarvan,  son  of  the  former  King 
Peter,  proclaimed  King." 

Storm  looked  at  Crossdale  and  folded  up  the  paper  and 
was  about  to  put  it  back  in  his  pocket,  but  the  young  man 
took  it  from  him,  held  it,  staring  at  the  words  which  he 
could  not  read  for  emotion.  Looking  up  at  Storm,  he  said, 
speaking  with  difficulty:  "Murdered?  John  Sarvanarof 
murdered?  And  they  don't  say  anything  about  the  Queen?" 

"Come,"  said  Storm,  putting  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  his 
friend,  "let's  go  indoors,  Steve.  You've  not  told  me  a  damn 
thing  about  Karmania,  and  since  we're  going  to  get  wickedly 
rich  in  that  little  kingdom,  let's  hear  all  you  know  about 
it.  And  who  on  God's  earth  would  you  talk  to,  if  it  wasn't 
to  little  me?" 

That  evening,  after  a  long,  hard  ride,  Crossdale  came 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  353 

slowly  back  to  the  bungalow,  down  the  little  trail  bordered 
by  the  brilliant  sage  bushes.  His  mare  picked  her  way 
daintily  over  the  soft  path. 

He  was  in  no  hurry  to  go  indoors.  He  had  ridden  long  in 
the  fresh,  delicious  air.  He  had  tried,  as  he  did  so  often 
now,  to  tire  himself  out,  so  that  he  might  sleep  and  forget. 
He  knew  that  he  would  only  find  old  K  down  there  to  keep 
him  company,  and  perhaps  it  would  be  harder  than  ever  to 
see  Storm  now,  for  he  had  told  him  everything.  There  would 
be  the  photograph  of  the  little  girl  upstairs,  but  she  had 
never  given  him  any  kisses  that  he  could  remember.  She 
had  never  grown  up  to  his  love. 

After  his  long  talk  with  Caleb,  his  confession,  which  had 
lasted  into  the  late  afternoon,  Karniania  had  become  vivid 
and  real  to  him  again;  and  he  remembered  step  by  step  the 
journey  from  Savia  to  Tamaresk;  the  stop  at  his  old 
quarters  in  Cye,  which  he  and  Korvan  had  shared  together; 
the  gathering  together  of  his  belongings;  the  finding  under 
the  bricks  of  the  chimney  the  documents  from  Storm  regard- 
ing the  oil  wells  safely  hidden  by  Jeff.  So  that  was  why 
Jeff  Robinson  had  wanted  the  letters!  He  had  copied  them; 
his  cupidity  and  his  vanity,  his  desire  for  wealth,  had 
triumphed  over  everything  else!  He  remembered  the 
interminable  four  days'  journey,  over  the  new  railroad 
as  far  as  Roda,  over  the  road  he  had  built  and  laid,  and  the 
subsequent  dragging  trail  of  horse  and  carriage  finally  to  the 
door  of  the  old  Grand  Hotel  in  Tamaresk.  And  every  foot 
of  the  way  had  been  heavy  with  his  sense  of  loss  of  Her; 
every  turn  of  the  wheels  meant  that  he  was  leaving  her  for- 
ever. He  had  no  means  of  getting  a  message  back;  he  had 


354  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

no  hope  of  receiving  any  token  or  sign — nothing  but  her 
word  on  the  slip  of  paper,  engraved  on  his  soul  and  binding 
him  to  her. 

His  escort  had  been  of  the  most  severe  and  military  type. 
He  was  treated  as  a  prisoner  of  war;  and  when  he  passed  the 
turn  of  the  road  where  the  brigands  of  Prince  John  had 
originally  taken  him  prisoner,  he  wished  with  all  his  soul 
that  another  unthought-of  circumstance  might  seize  him 
and  carry  him  back  into  captivity,  that  he  might  breathe  the 
air  with  her. 

At  a  table  in  "The  Yellow  Moon,"  over  an  indifferent 
meal,  he  was  surprised  to  see  how  tawdry  and  sordid  the 
place  seemed  to  him  now,  its  charm  smitten  out  by  his 
excitement  and  grief.  As  he  had  lingered  over  his  tasteless 
meal,  the  company  in  the  room  broke  up  into  a  free  fight, 
for  the  musicians  tried  to  play  one  of  the  Queen's  songs  and 
the  revolutionaries  forced  them  to  turn  it  into  a  new  national 
air. 

In  the  disturbance  he  had  gone  out  to  the  Danube  boat,  a 
peasant  lad  carrying  his  small  luggage  after  him.  Then  the 
river  again,  with  its  charm  and  fascination  gone,  bore  him 
out  of  the  country  at  last,  in  spite  of  himself. 

Then  the  stop  at  Bukarest,  the  eternal  waiting  for  news  of 
some  kind.  He  knew  through  the  cold,  impersonal  medium 
of  a  Bukarest  newspaper  what  Karmen  Mara's  choice  had 
been.  She  had  agreed  to  marry  the  President  of  the  New 
Republic  and  direct  the  affairs  of  the  state  with  her  hus- 
band. 

Nothing  after  that  made  any  difference  to  him. 

Now,  on  this  night,  as  he  came  slowly  up  to  the  bungalow, 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  355 

he  saw  the  little  supper  table  spread  on  the  terrace,  and 
spread  for  three.  The  awning  was  drawn  back  from  the 
porch;  they  were  to  eat  in  the  open  under  the  sky. 

But  the  sight  of  the  supper  table,  the  return  home,  gave 
him  no  thrill.  He  scarcely  wondered  at  the  extra  place. 
Nothing  affected  him.  He  stood  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  smoking  before  going  in,  looking  up  to  the  foot- 
hills, fast  becoming  indistinct  in  the  falling  night.  From 
his  gardens  came  the  perfume  of  heliotrope  and  rose.  It 
was  a  land  of  beauty,  a  kingdom  of  luxuriant  bloom,  and  the 
most  lonely  paradise  that  could  be  imagined. 

As  he  stood  like  this,  he  heard  some  one  touch  the  piano 
in  the  living  room.  Caleb  Storm  played  all  the  popular 
music  by  ear.  Unmoved,  he  listened  to  the  chords — but 
where  on  earth  had  Storm  ever  heard  that  melody?  He 
had  always  thought  that  if  that  strain  again  should  meet  his 
ears,  he  could  never  bear  it. 

"What  shall  be  given  to  him  who  comes  riding 
Over  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests 
To  our  hill  city? 
Much  gold  and  glory? 

"He  comes  for  neither. 
So  the  rider,  the  stranger, 
Goes  back  unsatisfied! 

"What  shall  I  give  him 

Who  comes  so  far  and  so  gladly? 

A  gift  for  a  stranger, 

A  gift  for  a  rider, 


356  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

I  will  give  him  that  which  I  have  kept  for  him — 

that  which  my  mother  gave  me. 
What  is  this  gift?     The  heart  in  my  breast. 
When  he  feels  it  he  will  count  its  beating." 

He  listened  to  it,  sung  in  Karmanian  by  a  woman's  voice, 
and  then,  as  though  he  were  a  somnambulist,  slowly  drawn 
by  the  music,  he  went  into  the  living  room. 

A  woman  sat  behind  his  piano.  She  wore  a  small  dark 
hat,  which  came  down  closely  over  her  brow  and  ears;  she 
wore  a  flowered  veil,  which  concealed  her  face.  She  was  all 
in  black  like  a  shadow,  with  splendid  milk-white  pearls  in 
her  ears,  and  a  string  of  real  pearls  around  her  neck,  such  as 
Queens  in  romances  wear. 

She  sprang  up  and  cried  out  as  Crossdale  came  in,  and 
she  rushed  up  the  stairs  like  a  school  girl  in  her  short  dress, 
displaying  a  fine  length  of  slender  leg  in  silk  stocking,  and 
high-heeled  shoes.  She  found  a  door  open  and  she  took 
cover.  It  was  Crossdale's  own  room. 

But  he  ran  her  to  earth  by  his  bureau,  where  she  stood 
straight,  with  her  hands  behind  her,  leaning  on  the  bureau. 
And  back  of  her  the  little  old  picture,  grave-eyed,  and  it 
seemed  to  curiously  regard  her. 

"I  don't  take  drugs,  and  they  have  stolen  my  liquor,  so  I 
am  just  mad,  that's  all!" 

She  did  not  say  a  word.  She  smiled,  until  he  saw  her  lips 
quiver.  Then  he  put  his  arms  about  her  and  unfastened  her 
veil  and  unpinned  her  smart  little  hat  and  put  it  on  his 
cushion,  where  no  woman's  hat  had  ever  been;  and  it  fell 
over  the  little  old  picture  of  the  young  princess  and  snuffed 
her  out. 


THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA  357 

"You  wrote  the  word  'Come,'  Stephen  Crossdale.  I  found 
it  in  Griffen's  collar,  and  I  was  brought  up  to  obey.  They 
say  a  good  ruler  should  learn  the  lesson  of  obedience."  She 
held  him  back  from  her.  "I  want  to  tell  you  of  my 
journeyings.  I  would  rather  travel  from  Karmania  to  China 
than  spend  another  night  in  your  sleeping  hotels." 

"Did  you  come  alone?" 

"Ask  the  immigration  officials.  I've  brought  half  my 
kingdom  with  me,  all  the  Karmanian  Oil  Company." 

Before  any  magician  could  transfix  them  to  stone,  he 
kissed  her  and  found  her  real,  and  he  kissed  her  to  prove 
how  real  he  was  and  that  California  does  not  quench  the 
fever  of  life  and  desire.  Some  one  coming  up  the  stairs  made 
thejn  start  apart  and  she  took  up  her  smart  little  hat,  and 
the  girl  of  the  photograph  was  discovered  again  and  gazed 
in  grave  wonder  at  the  girl  who  had  grown  up.  Karmen 
Mara  settled  her  hair  as  naturally  before  his  glass  as  though 
it  had  been  her  mirror  in  the  palace. 

Crossdale  looked  at  the  image  of  a  woman  in  his  little 
mirror.  Heavens  what  a  royal  world  it  was! 

From  the  door,  Jefferson  Robinson,  large  stockholder  in 
the  Western  Transportation  and  Karmanian  Oil  Company, 
in  a  fashionable  coat  of  the  latest  cut,  bought  from  Poole 
in  London  as  they  passed  through,  in  a  myrtle  green  cravat 
bought  from  a  bang-up  haberdasher  in  Paris  as  they  passed 
through,  a  decoration  in  his  buttonhole  given  to  him  by  what 
country  and  for  what  valor  Crossdale  had  yet  to  discover, 
announced  gently: 

"De  supper  am  ready,  Mister  Crossdale,  an'  Yo'  Majesty, 
Mis'  Vassylof,  ma'am.  And  Mr.  Storm  do  say — " 


358  THE    QUEEN    OF    KARMANIA 

What  Caleb  Storm  said  or  thought  was  drowned  in  the 
crashing  of  his  chords  upon  the  piano  in  the  living  room. 
His  fingers  wandered  into  a  national  air,  and  then  left  it 
and  got  tangled  up  in  a  wedding  march,  and  he  kept  on. 


A    000129149     1 


